They Did Not Fade Away
by Hephaestus01
Summary: Takes place three years after NFA. Things have changed so much, and yet not at all. Buffy:tVS Xover, most major characters included. BA. PLease RandR.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"There's something changing." Willow tapped her pencil against the desk, staring at the computer screen as she thought out loud.

Through the monitor, via a web cam, Giles looked at her over his bifocals. "Changing? Yes…I've noticed something, but nothing that would cause any concern. The balances have been tipped in our favor, it seems."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd? I mean, there has been less and less activity over the past years. It's…disturbing. Who or what is destroying the demons, and why?"

"Perhaps…the Powers That Be have finally called more warriors to the front."

She swiveled in her chair and looked out her office window at the bluffs. The curtains were parted and the window was open, she could hear the breakers down below.

"Why haven't we met any of them? Why hasn't Buffy reported more soldiers? We should have heard something if there were more people on the front."

He nodded; still not entirely convinced Willow wasn't acting the part of an alarmist. "Willow, the slayers have come into their own recently. In the past three years, they have grown up, most of them are women. Buffy was at her peak at that time in her career, perhaps these girls have reached that point. We have more capable and trained soldiers on the front now than at any other time in history. Surely that has to have an effect eventually."

She wasn't making eye contact with him. When that happened, he knew she was hiding something or about to confess something. He waited in patient silence for her to either continue or end their conversation.

"I…I heard something from an operative in California. The demon population in LA is barely existent these days. I started some checking…" She brought up her files containing the information she had been collecting throughout the past few months and sent it to Giles. "Paris, Belgium, Rome, Madrid…they all have demon populations comparable to that of LA. That can't be a coincidence."

Looking through the files, he was suddenly a little less sure of the plans he had been putting into effect over the years. Xander was still in Africa, Dawn was finishing college in England, Buffy was traveling through Spain, and he and Willow were running the Watcher's Council. All was as he had planned. The thought of interrupting the lives of these people because something good was happening was…a little beyond him.

"Willow, I refuse to call a meeting because there are fewer demons than there were five years ago. I don't think that is the best reason to call everyone away from their lives…"

She interrupted him vehemently. "Wolfram and Hart either has had a complete and radical makeover, or they're planning something. I would like to know which one."

"Willow, I doubt there is something more diabolical than their previous plans at play. Surely nothing they come up with can be worse that anything they've done previously."

"It can always get worse." She contemplated the older man in front of her. He had been her guide throughout the times when she was learning to control her powers. After that, he had become one of her closest friends. They currently had a more equal relationship than they ever had before, being that they were co-chairs of the Council. He was in England, maintaining headquarters, and she was in Nice, watching over the Eastern sectors. She had not previously pried into his business when it came to private meetings and contingencies that he chose to not share with her. She trusted him. Now, however, he was purposefully trying to shut her down, push her away from her current course. That made her wonder just what she had stumbled into, and what he wasn't telling her.

"Giles, I am going to continue looking into this. I already have operatives en route to LA, and the other European cities I mentioned. Recon only. I want to find out what is going on."

He stiffened. Willow immediately knew that she had hit a nerve. There was something there he didn't want her to see. "That is not a wise course of action, Willow."

"What aren't you telling me? LA is no longer a no-go zone, as far as I knew…as far as you told me."

"It's not just LA…" He averted his eyes from the screen; purposefully making her wait to hear what he had to say. "I…there is something…well something I haven't told anyone. Wolfram and Hart is not under new management. It has been under the same management for the past four years or so. There have been changes, of course, but…none of them have been negative, from what I can tell."

"Giles, four years ago, it was…oh my God, Giles…you mean to tell me that Angel is still at Wolfram and Hart?" She stood suddenly, pacing through the room. She thought he was dead. She had told Buffy he was dead. Since the opening of the portal in LA, when Angel had left this dimension and traveled into a hell dimension, they had all been operating on the belief that he was dead.

"How long have you known that he was alive?" There was fire in her eyes, and if looks could kill, Giles was sure at that moment he would have needed resuscitation.

Clearing his throat, he made eye contact with her again. "Angel…has been alive since that battle. He was in other dimensions for a short time, but he returned and continued his presidency at Wolfram and Hart. He never really died."

Willow was stunned speechless. He had lied to her and she in turn had lied to Buffy. The months following that announcement had been the worst she had ever seen her friend. She mumbled about cookies for weeks, and cried spontaneously for longer than that. Buffy had tried to date other people, but none of the attempted relationships had worked out; the longest relationship lasted four months. Willow suddenly found herself struggling to control her anger. Buffy had been devastated, especially after she had started digging for information and discovered the Shanshu prophecy. After that, things had gotten a little heated between Buffy and Giles. Buffy had been sure that Giles had known of the prophecy. Of course he adamantly denied all knowledge such a thing existed, a fact that no one really believed.

"Giles…the prophecy, Angel's not-so-death…what else have kept from us? What have you kept from me? Was the prophecy fulfilled? Is he evil, good? Tell me what's going on!"

He knew that she could teleport herself to wherever he was and turn him into a pool of slime, and right now that was looking like a distinct possibility. He quickly went through all the options in his mind. He could continue the lie, but that seemed it would not work very well anymore. He could tell her truth…that would lead to wonderful things, he was sure, or he could give her just enough to sedate her for now. No, he thought, that last one would mean that some time from now she would find out the whole truth and be even angrier than she was now.

Reaching into a locked desk drawer, he pulled out a thick manila envelop. Opening the flap, he let the contents spill out onto the desktop. Sighing, he looked back at the angry witch starting holes through the computer screen at him. "These were addressed to Buffy. Needless to say, she did not receive them. Angel…is not quite human. He is no longer a vampire either. During the time that he…was not in this world, he was in other dimensions, changing this one. He changed the course of history, and therefore the future. Just because he is no longer a vampire does not mean he is 'good'. I would like to make that clear. He has been part of very questionable activities, activities that make me wonder as to what kind of being he really is. I have been keeping watch on him, and I have my own operatives inside the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart. I'm still unsure as to the exact nature of Angel's…well, soul. Buffy would have gone there. I couldn't have that, not yet."

She sat back down, stunned. All this time, he had been alive, all this time, he had been doing good work at Wolfram and Hart. All this time he had been trying to contact Buffy. "How many letters are there?"

"He sends them every few months. He has for the past three years."

Standing again, she gave a look that conveyed that she would not entertain any more arguments. "Pack. We're going to LA."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The meeting was boring. They were always boring. Looking over at Angel, he could see that the president of Wolfram and Hart was raptly paying attention. Of course, it helped that Angel had been hitting the bottle for a few hours. Angel could sit through the most boring meetings as long as he was drunk. Finally, Will noticed movement. They were looking at him. He managed an intelligent answer that made everyone in the room nod in agreement, and quickly called an end to the fiasco of a budget meeting.

Will watched the financial advisors leave, and then focused his full attention on Angel. They both had papers, birth certificates, social security cards, passports and other various paper work that stated their legal names and birth dates and all the other information that seemed to be so important for society. Spike's legal name was now William Benson. Will, for short. Being a human, or close enough, anyway, he couldn't go around with the name Spike on a drivers license. Angel's paperwork all stated that he was Liam O'Connor. Another way to torture himself, Will thought. A reminder of the life he lived hundreds of years ago, a life that had been brutally devastated.

"Angel…do you think it's the best idea to come to these things totally in the bag?"

He sighed and stared at the man who very few people would have mistaken for the dead vampire Spike. "Will, shut up. No one noticed." He rose and walked over to the well concealed bar at the far side of the conference room.

Things had changed in the past few years. Ever since Angel had come back from whatever hell he had been in, and found Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Spike, none of whom remembered anything of the six months previous, the world around them had changed. Angel had tried to explain, but he couldn't really convey what he had done. Will got the gist of it though. Angel had jumped through a portal into hell during the big battle in the alley. Portals were starting to open all over LA by that time. After getting into hell, Angel hadn't wasted much time; he went straight to the source. Apparently, the biggest reason that the Wolf, Ram and Hart had never been killed was because no one had ever tried before. Angel changed that.

Angel had said that it hadn't taken that long to kill them. They were well guarded, strong, but he was insatiable. He wouldn't stop. After that deed was done, he had gone into an intra-dimensional dimension. Something like a space in between two walls. He had described it like a maze, an ever changing maze that wound around itself continuously, with doors everywhere, and shimmering puddles that showed moments in time. He got lost a lot, until he started to figure out a pattern and how to beat it. It had taken him years, but he pushed the walls a little bit here and there, had gone through the right doors and changed things fractionally where he thought necessary. The end result was that Gunn hadn't died, only been in the ICU for months. Wesley had a fate close to Gunn's. Illyria was pulled from Fred, leaving a changed Fred, but Fred none the less. And he and Spike were human. Or close to it. The only door he could never open, the fate he could never change, was Cordy's. He had never been able to find her.

When angel returned from his space-between trip, six months had passed in reality, and Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and Spike were simply standing before him, with no memory other than what they had believed to be their deaths. Fred had said it best: "I died, and it lasted as long as a blink, and then I was right here."

Fred was the most changed. Part of her remembered being Illyria. Her mind remembered flashes; her body remembered a power she no longer possessed. Fred was harder, more cunning now. She had a sureness, a confidence she had never had before, but with it came a subtle ruthlessness, a quiet sharpened edge that few people could really understand. Will wasn't sure if Fred had softened Illyria, or if Illyria had hardened Fred.

Two years ago, Fred's parents had died in a car accident. They had been hit by a drunk driver; he hadn't survived either. Fred had changed a lot during those times. Se had become a little more withdrawn for a time, but she also had become a little less shrewd, a little less ruthless. The accident had the exact opposite of what Will had thought it would do. Fred actually became more like Fred.

He was sure that had it not been for Wesley, things would have turned out differently. They were married not long after 'the blank period,' their name for the six months when they were, but weren't, in existence.

Things had actually gone very well immediately following the blank period. The work was hard, taking over Wolfram and Hart again and weeding out the evil demons and employees had not been easy. They had killed a lot of people and creatures during that time. They had rebuilt the business into something respectable, and the branches in Europe followed suit. Especially after Angel and Gunn had traveled to every branch and decapitated the presidents.

Angel was President of Wolfram and Hart, that meant every branch answered to him. There were multiple vice presidents, one at every branch that answered not only directly to Angel, but to a board of directors. Every branch had a board of directors, and they answered to the Executive board. The hierarchy worked well. Something needed to be done, it went to the Board, then to the Vice President, then to the Executive Board, and finally to Angel. Of course, not every decision or action was made by the President; Angel really didn't care about most of what happened 'in house,' that is in every particular branch. He only cared about things that would put the world in jeopardy, or cause loss of life. Most of time, he was sent a detailed report, along with a copy of the minutes, from every board meeting of every branch. There were committees within each branch, so that the boards never had to micro manage.

Wesley, Fred and Gunn made up the executive board of the LA branch. Will was vice president. Wesley, Fred and Gunn were also chairpersons. It was a good system, and the checks within the system generally meant that corruption was ferreted out quickly. It was difficult to hide projects within committees from the other chairpersons, and that meant it was hard to hide from the board, which was comprised of all the chairpersons and a few other people.

The LA branch was designed a little differently. Angel wanted his people at the helm, but he also wanted them to do things they enjoyed. Sadly, even after finding Lorne, he refused to come back. Angel had made sure that he wanted for nothing, and sometimes made anonymous donations, though Lorne didn't need it, to the club in Miami the demon had opened. The club, and the area it was situated in, suited the Demon more than his life in LA ever had. Angel told himself he was happy Lorne was happy.

Angel of course kept tabs on Connor as well. The young man was almost finished with his degree in Art History at UCLA. Angel had, without Connor's knowledge, helped him secure an internship with the Las Angeles Museum of Art.

Other than Wolfram and Hart, Angel had continued his investments, and developed a few side businesses; most were concerned with shipping and trucking. The history that Angel had created for himself, to explain the stocks in his possession since the 1930s, was that his grandfather had purchased the stocks after the stock market crash and had passed them down to his father, who in turn invested in IBM and Microsoft. Angel had always had these stocks; he remembered when Cordy had found out about them. She had thrown a fit over the fact that he wouldn't use the holdings to pay the bills.

Angel had liquidated some of his stock holdings, but most of it had gone into new investments and businesses. And his house in the hills. The others had apartments in the city, but Angel had opted for a large house in Beverly Hills. He had found a house that was situated on almost an acre, and was completely hidden from view. It was gated in, and came complete with two guest houses, a spa and a pool. The four bedroom main house was largely left unoccupied most of the time.

Will, Wes, Gunn and Angel had formed a tight bond throughout the years; they were closer now than they had been when they first started working together. In the beginning, at Wolfram and Hart, everyone had been more focused on the job, on the novelty of being where they were, and less on the friendships they had built over the years. It was different now that the company wasn't evil, or working for evil. Their jobs weren't as polarizing as they once had been.

Will looked up at Angel, who was about half way through a four finger glass of single malt scotch. Every day since after Angel had sent that first letter, he died a little. Will watched Angel for the last three or so years shrink into himself a little more every day. Everything Angel had done, he had done for her. The prophecy had been fulfilled and Angel had made serious headway in the demon community, shrinking it little by little and forcing demons into communities or families that would live peaceably or be held responsible. None of it had brought her back to him. Will knew that Angel still sent letters to her every few months, but he never received a reply. Will still couldn't understand that.

Angel had always had a bit of an addictive personality. A few hundred years ago, he and Angel had gotten drunk together nearly every night. They drank enough whiskey to kill half the human beings of the world population at that time. Will knew that Angel had started to smoke again, and he was drinking more than what was healthy. The drinking had been escalating steadily.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Angel looked at him and downed the rest of his glass. "What I do every night. I'm taking some files home, signing my name to what Wesley and Gunn and Fred tell me to sign and then I am going to get thoroughly in the bag. Why?"

"Well…I thought we could go out."

"Is this a date?"

Will smiled; at least Angel still had a sense of humor. He wasn't totally dead inside. "Yeah, I'll buy you flowers and everything. Come on, let's go to dinner. We'll get good food, we can go to the cemetery, kill something, and go back to your place. There's a game on tonight."

Angel looked out the full wall of windows over the city he had adopted as his own. He loved this city. He loved the people in it. The one person he really wanted in his city, though, wouldn't come. He had asked her to. He had begged her to give him another chance, to just meet with him, hear what he had to say. She had never even responded. He almost found a place inside of him to hate her. Almost. Mostly, he hated himself, for screwing up so badly and in so many ways.

Will's tapping his foot woke angel from his reverie. "Yeah, that sounds good actually. I could handle getting out for a while."

Will hoped the night wouldn't turn into another let's-whip-Angel marathon. He could only handle so much self-hatred from the man.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Xander met them at LAX. The three former Scooby members got into a car rented by Giles and headed towards the Wolfram and Hart Law Firm headquarters of Las Angeles. Willow filled Xander in on the highlights of the situation while Giles drove.

"…So Giles thought it would be a good idea to tell me that Angel was dead. And now, here we are. Angel is alive, and he's good, and he's some kind of human hybrid. He has been fighting a war against the demon population throughout the world, using Wolfram and Hart's extensive financial means…and other means as well. He's been trying to contact Buffy since they saved the world from turning into hell, literally, and Mr. Let's-Play-God here decided it would be a good idea that she didn't get her own mail. Because of course, Buffy can't be trusted to open her own mail and make her own decisions."

Xander nodded, trying to take in all that he was hearing. Three years ago, Buffy had come to Africa, crying, out of her mind with grief, and had stayed with Xander for a few months until she decided she could get out of bed on her own everyday. Willow had been in England, with Giles, at the time. Buffy had needed to be alone, not surrounded by slayers and potentials, so she had come to Xander.

Taking a deep breath, Xander said, "Giles…I thought she was going to die from a broken heart. How could you do that to her?"

"Listen, both of you, Buffy cannot think clearly when it comes to Angel. She cannot be trusted to…"

Willow reached across the front seat and slapped him as he drove. The car never strayed from its course, but Giles promptly shut up. "You pompous ass! Buffy killed him! How can you say she can't be trusted?"

"Listen, I don't even like the guy. I think he's a jerk, but Buffy has always held a torch for him, and…it's her life. You can't do that, Giles."

He took a deep breath, readying himself to tell them information he was sure would change their mind about his actions concerning Angel and Buffy. "Angel called me not long after he took over at Wolfram and Hart. He wanted help replacing a person he called Fred within her own body; a demon had overtaken this women's body. I didn't help him. He…didn't sound right. I can't explain it, but I couldn't trust him. I don't think he can be trusted. I understand the idea of destroying this beast from the inside out, but I don't think he could have survived that."

They sat quietly. Willow didn't know how to take that. Was Fred alive? She believed that Angel could survive being inside the evil corporation, she really did. She had seen him when Buffy died, seen how he reacted. He had changed after he went to LA. He changed into more…well, more of a man. She liked what she had seen then, and she was sure that Angel was still that person. A good person.

"You were wrong, Giles. It's an indefensible position. Let's try and figure this out, because when Buffy gets here, she is going to flip out, and not in a good way. We need to do a little damage control before that happens, maybe we can avoid a nuclear holocaust."

Xander thought his eye was going to pop out of his head. "She's coming here! When?"

"When I ask her to. Dawn will meet us here as well; she's coming after her finals are done. Buffy isn't aware yet that she'll be taking a trip to LA. Dawn thinks she's coming here to go shopping with me."

"She's flying from England to go shopping?" Xander couldn't quite believe that Willow hadn't told Dawn anything more than that.

"Well, I might have mentioned that I was thinking about visiting the crater we call Sunnydale. She said she'd like to see it as well. You know, say goodbye again."

He looked out the window at the passing scenery. It was better than looking at the back of Giles' head. He absentmindedly played with the band that held his eye patch in place. He wasn't entirely aware he did this when he was thinking. It was something that Subira had pointed out while they were together.

Not fully believing that he was back in California, he tried to sort out his thought about this trip. He had promised himself that he wasn't going back to California, he liked Africa and Europe. He had been back to the states a few times, on errands for Giles or Willow, but he had never stayed long. He had a fondness for the desert now, after spending so much time in Africa. He felt most comfortable in Nevada and Arizona when he was in the states.

Training in Africa had gone well. He had trained with the slayers there, before they had left for places unknown, as decided by the Council. He had refused the offer to become a Watcher. That wasn't for him. Besides, he thought, if people like Andrew were the kinds of people that became Watchers, he wasn't sure he would fit in.

He had kept busy, training with slayers, running a small repair shop. He found he liked working with his hands. He had an eye for detail when he paid attention, and was good at troubleshooting. If anything, though, his customers just liked him. He didn't repair big things, most people didn't own cars in the parts of Africa he was in, and if they did they took it to a qualified mechanic. No, he liked smaller things, bikes, mostly. He could fix a kid's bike like no one's business. He also sold penny candy at the counter, the kids liked that too. Sometimes, they would come in just for that, even if their bikes were in good repair.

He fixed some clocks sometimes. No watches, he didn't have the right equipment for that kind of work. Of course, none of this paid the bills. The real money came from the Council, and the jobs they sent him on. He was very nicely reimbursed for those trips. They were always sensitive jobs, requiring someone that could be trusted and was relatively unknown within the Watcher community. Since the Council had been blown up, no one within the organization recognized him. The files the Council had kept on Buffy and her friends had gone up in ashes, and everyone that would have been able to recognize his face was dead now. Only Giles, Willow, Buffy and Dawn really knew of his existence, and that was okay with him.

His relative anonymity meant that he was perfect for low level espionage. He liked to think of his job that way. Harris, Xander Harris. That made him chuckle. He spied on people, he liked to blend into crowds, follow people, leave messages for people and disappear. He was good at it. Thinking it was odd that he had a talent for the work he was doing, he realized he had never thought he could be doing something as interesting as what he was doing. Geeky and awkward Xander Harris was a spy for a secret and internationally reaching English organization, he told himself.

Sighing, he leaned his head against the window. He had learned to live with one eye. It wasn't that much of a bother, really, he thought. His depth perception was permanently altered, meaning he couldn't drive again, but that meant that he had a huge budget to use taxis wherever he went for The Council.

"Giles…what are we going to do once we get there? Are we just going to walk right into his office and ask him if he's evil or not?"

Willow answered instead. This was her show and Giles was not going to take it away from her. He had messed this situation up enough already, she thought. "We're going to talk to Fred, if she's alive. We're going to assess the situation, and then we will go from there. This is a social call, as far is anyone is concerned. A just-wanted-to-check-up-on-you kind of thing."

"Okay. That sounds…disturbingly vague. So…why am I here?"

"Because you're a good agent. I think we can use your talents."

Great, Xander thought, he was a commodity. Actually, he didn't mind that much, the idea kept him feeling useful, instead of like a past his prime cripple.

Giles cleared his throat. "I want to be non-confrontational. Angel can't know we're here."

"Won't this Fred person tell him? Angel's the boss isn't he?"

Willow took over, "I don't think Fred will tell Angel until we're gone. That's important. We need to be out of the building before he knows. We can't have a confrontation right now."

Nodding understanding, Xander caught on to the reason for their precautions. Despite Willow's protests, she had her doubts about Angel. The time for reflections was over as they pulled into the parking lot of the Wolfram and Hart Law Firm.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fred probably wouldn't be recognized by anyone who had known her before her blue phase. She couldn't bring herself to say out loud the name of the hell god that had taken her body over for a year. She referred to it in her head as the blue phase. A time of her life that was…fuzzy. She couldn't quite remember everything, just impulses, flashes, feelings. Most of them were not pleasant.

She was a different person now and she knew that. In her mind's eye, she saw herself as a woman whereas before she had been a girl in women's clothing. She had been so damaged before, she thought, before the blue phase. Perhaps this is the woman she would have become if she hadn't been sent through a portal into a world in which she was enslaved and forced to live in silence, she told herself. Maybe, she thought, if her life had turned out differently she would have never become the odd little person she had been.

After the blue phase, after she had been brought back, Fred knew she could never be the person she was before. She would never as soft, or delicate, or flighty. Now, she knew, she was shrewd, cunning, and a little ruthless. Nothing got by her, and she did not tolerate insubordination. Of course, she didn't kill the people who worked under her if they went astray, no, she would just give them a look, and a stern but private lecture about the error of her ways. She had inspired incredibly loyal employees, and they always strove to tow the line.

She liked the person she was. She was as smart as before, but now more aware of what to do with that intelligence. Shedding her naivety had great advantages, she had been told. Her projects were brilliantly designed and presented, and she almost always had the budget she needed to make sure things were done to her specifications.

The intercom on Fred's desk buzzed. Setting down her pen, she pushed the intercom button.

"Mrs. Pryce, security is on the line. They have a woman named Willow Rosenburg at the front desk requesting to see you. She doesn't have an appointment."

Fred froze. Willow was here after all this time. Why, she wondered. Fred was apprised of most of the movements of the Council. It was hard not to be, being married to Wesley. He kept his ear very close to the ground as far as the Council was concerned.

Composing herself, she took a deep breath. She had to address this problem before Angel found out Willow was in the building.

"Ask security if she's alone."

"Yes ma'am." There was a momentary pause from her secretary. "She is with two men, Mrs. Pryce."

So, no slayer, Fred thought. That was good, at least. Maybe a crisis could be averted. "Have Vincent show them up, and have him stay here, he can show them back down as well."

"Yes ma'am."

Removing her glasses, Fred stood and straightened her blouse a bit. She quickly had her secretary bring in coffee and four cups and saucers. This was going to be interesting, Fred thought.

They were shown in to Fred's office and Willow quickly took stock of the room. The wall opposite the door was lined with windows from floor to ceiling. A sitting area comprised of a couch and two chairs was to the left, and a large desk, neatly covered with stacks of folders and papers, was to the right. It was sparsely but beautifully decorated. Willow walked further into the room, so that the double doors could be closed. When they were, she saw Fred.

Gone was the Fred she had known. This Fred had her hair, which had to be shorter than the last time Willow had seen her, pulled back into a chignon, and long bangs swept to one side of her face. She was dressed conservatively, in a navy blue pants suit with matching pumps and an emerald green button down blouse. Her understated jewelry, including a wedding band on her left hand, completed the look. She appeared more aloof than Willow remembered, and the warmth and inescapable cheeriness Willow had once been greeted by was covered with a layer of calm contemplation and a good dose of skepticism. This Fred was a business mogul, not a geeky and girlish inventor.

Finally, Willow managed to choke out a greeting. Maybe Fred had died. Was this what replaced her, the witch wondered? Willow shook the hand offered to her and remembered that years ago she have been greeted by a hug, not a handshake.

Fred took stock of Willow, knowing full well the witch was doing the same to her. Willow was in jeans and a dark purple pullover. The handbag at her side was understated but oversized, and her hair was loosely hanging around her shoulders. She was casual, Fred thought, trying to appear low key and non-threatening.

Turning her attention to the younger man with a very dark tan and eye patch in the jeans and t-shirt, she offered her hand. "Mr. Harris, nice to meet you."

She didn't have to guess at the other man's identity. There was only one older gentleman Willow and Xander would travel with. She gave him a quick once over, black slacks, navy blue button down, glasses, and an anxious look on his face. Anxious, but somehow also secure, she thought. "Mr. Giles."

She offered them a seat with a sweeping motion of her arm. "Please, make yourselves comfortable." When her guests were on the couch and she was in one of the chairs, she poured the coffee. She took her time, politely offering cream and sugar. One thing she had learned from her blue phase was how to make a person sweat it out, make them wait for until she was ready to proceed.

She leaned back a fraction. Everything in her posture spoke of relaxation, serenity. "What can I do for you?"

Setting her coffee down, Willow took point. "We've noticed the decrease in demon and vampire populations in the cities in which Wolfram and Hart is present. That is commendable, of course, but we wanted to…well, we wanted to check in."

She smiled knowingly, "you mean you wanted to make sure we weren't pulling an initiative." When Willow nodded, Fred kept going. "When we took over the company, it was known that we did it for the specific purpose of using the resources of Wolfram and Hart to fight for good. We've been doing that. I hope I've assuaged your fears."

"Yes," Giles entered the conversation and noticed that Fred acted a little colder towards him compared with Willow. "We had concerns knowing Angel's history and the nefarious reputation of this company."

"Of course you did." Fred's voice sounded sweet, but her teeth were clenched slightly.

Seeing that they were close to being thrown out of the window, ten stories up, Xander decided it was time to save Giles from himself. Xander didn't like Angel, but he hadn't known that Giles harbored such bad feelings for the apparently ex-vampire.

"Fred, can I call you that?" Seeing her nod, he continued, "And call me Xander, none of this Mr. Harris crap. Listen, what Giles is trying to say, and not very well, is that we were worried, because, well, we've met angry Angel. It isn't any fun. Now, until recently, I didn't know he was alive. Now that I do, I just want to make sure everything is on the up and up. It looks like it is, but I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth. You're the horse. Not literally."

He was charming, she decided. Sweet, but shrewd. This was a man that knew he was cute as a button and could be sweeter than cotton candy, but who also took everything with a grain of salt and very well hid cynicism, she decided. She liked him immediately. However, he was with a man that let her die and a woman whose loyalties she questioned. He couldn't be trusted.

"Your concerns are noted, but I assure you, we have been fighting evil with this company for the better part of a decade, and we will continue to do this as long as possible. Now, if you'll excuse me, and if there's nothing else you'd like to talk about, I need to get back to work."

Willow raised a hand to motion for her to wait, "Fred, look…um, could you just…tell me about Angel?"

The reaction Fred had was both unexpected and extreme. She stood up, fire in her eyes, and hissed an answer at them, "why now? After all this time, why now? He doesn't deserve the pain you'll undoubtedly cause him. Get out." She walked to the door before they could protest, and swung one half of the double doors open. The security guard that had escorted the trio to Fred's office stood waiting for them.

Willow knew she could stay if she wanted. She could shut the door and force Fred to speak to her, but it wouldn't be right. And with the security in this building, her powers might be stymied and they could be killed for trying to harass with one of the executives. She wasn't sure if the security guards, some of whom were not human, would shoot first and ask questions later and decided they should leave peacefully.

Xander gave Fred a smile that was more apologies than thanks on his way out. After what Willow had mentioned a few days ago about Angel writing to Buffy and the letters being intercepted by Giles, he guessed that everyone who knew Angel would hate anyone that had to do with Buffy. They all probably thought she was a jerk for not answering him and her friends would be lumped into that assumption as well, Xander realized.

When Willow had called him and asked him to get on a plane a few nights ago, he hadn't been happy. When she mentioned it had to do with who he still called Mr. Pointy Teeth, he had been even less happy. After hearing the whole story, though, and Willow's concerns, he had acquiesced and agreed to get on a plane. That was three days ago. He had arrived in time to get a shower and some sleep at a motel and meet Willow and Giles as they got off the plane. They were all jet lagged, and cranky, and now they had been thrown out of Wolfram and Hart. This was the best trip he had taken yet, he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Fred immediately went to Wesley's office. She didn't bother to knock; she just opened the door and went in. Her husband was sitting at the conference table he used as a desk, old books opened and a color coded series of post-it notes covering the walls and parts of the table that weren't already covered with books and papers.

He looked up at her, his head cocked a little. She was walking like Illyria, her posture was straighter than normal, and, well, she looked pissed, Wesley thought. Fred never looked like that. No, he thought, that's not right; she never looked like that until Illyria. Now, she looked like that often. She was still Fred, he told himself, just a Fred that could get mad and deck a person with a rather powerful left hook.

He liked this Fred. Gunn couldn't handle Illyria, or the woman Fred had become after Illyria had invaded her body and killed her. Wesley, on the hand, liked Fred this way. He liked her before, and he would like her if tomorrow she woke up sweet and flighty again. He knew why, of course. He was in love her. He had been in love with her since he had first met her, as crazy and ragged as she had been. And, yes, he admitted to himself, he had been in love with Illyria. Because part of Illyria had been Fred, and he couldn't help but love that part of the hell god.

The woman in front of him, who would have been breathing fire had she been capable of such a thing, was the most beautiful woman Wesley had ever seen. Of course, telling her that right now would earn him a potted plant to the head, so he kept quiet.

"What did Giles have to say?"

"How did you know they were here?"

"Security knows better than not to inform me of the presence of anyone associated with the Council or the Summers sisters. What happened?"

She paced back and force, her hands and arms sweeping the room wildly. She had always talked with her hands, Wes thought. "The nerve! To just show up, now! Uninvited, unannounced, and just demand information about Angel! What arrogance! How could they think they are so important as to warrant…"

She kept going, but Wesley had learned it was better for his health and his marriage if he let her run out of steam, or at least calm down a little, before offering a comment. It took a few minutes, but finally, she dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the table, her posture and the tilt of her head every bit the young Texan girl he had known when he first met her. By the end of her rant, he had not only a summary of her feelings on the encounter, but a word for word reenactment.

"Fred…maybe we should take this at face value. Wait, don't interrupt me. I think they meant what they said, about wanting to check into things. As for the timing, well, Xander mentioned he didn't know Angel was alive. I can't imagine he'd lie about that, he'd have no reason to. Perhaps Buffy hadn't told them. Maybe, when they found out Angel was alive, they came to see for themselves. It has been a very long time."

"I doubt Buffy wouldn't tell them, especially Willow. No, she would definitely say something. But, you're right, Xander wasn't lying, I would have seen that. He may be involved in espionage for the Council, but I don't think he's very good at deceit."

"No, actually, from what I hear, he does recon, and bit messaging, very upfront business. No deceit, no lying, no impersonation."

"A watchdog, then? Interesting. If they didn't know, and Buffy definitely would have told them, then the only conclusion is…"

"Buffy doesn't, or didn't until recently, know that Angel is alive."

Fred stood again and started pacing. She shook her head, "Angel writes to her. I know he does. There are always weeks out of the year he gets hopeful and then he always goes into the deepest depressions a month or so later. By the time he's climbed out of that black pit, he's ready to send another letter. Like a dog that can't stop following an owner that beats it."

"I'm not sure Angel would take kindly to being compared to a dog."

"He was drunk at the budget meeting last week."

"I'm aware. Will talked to him about it." Wesley stood and walked over to the back corner of the room and sat on the couch. There was a tea pot on the table and he was relatively sure the tea would still be warm. "It's a problem, a problem that has been getting progressively worse."

Joining him on the couch, Fred accepted the tea cup offered to her. "He's too thin. He's lost twenty pounds since we started this again. He looses it and puts it back on again when he notices that we're getting nervous. He eats so we'll stop bugging him. Lately, though, he hasn't been putting it back on again. He doesn't eat, I don't think he sleeps, and he drinks a lot. Will won't tell me how much, but I think he's worried, and he doesn't worry easily."

"When it comes to Angel, William will worry rather easily, but I think he's validated in his concern. The question is, what do we do about it? I don't think sending a three hundred year old ex-vampire to rehab is a great idea. He'd laugh at us. And then possibly decapitate us." Leaning forward, he set the tea cup down and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin on his closed fists. "He's depressed, has been for a long time. He hasn't been right since Cordy died. Then, the letters…well, he's in bad shape. Maybe…" He stopped, unsure if he should express his thought to Fred at the moment.

"Maybe what? Maybe Angel should talk to Willow? Maybe Willow can tell him something we can't about Buffy? Good idea, Wesley. In the mean time, I'll ready the noose in his office with a wobbly chair under it. Brilliant." She stood, kissed his cheek, and left his office.

Wesley had to grin; she loved exiting with a flourish.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Another day at the office, he thought. Another day of nothingness. Swiveling in his chair, he flipped his wrist just right, and the throwing knife landed perfectly in the middle of the target. There was a cup of cold coffee on his desk and a half empty bottle of very expensive Irish whiskey in his desk drawer. The papers on his desk had to be read and signed, and there was a report he had to edit before it could be published for the company employees.

His financial advisor had called; he was making a ton of money in stocks and holdings. His shipping company, which he owned, but through another company owned by another company, had more contracts now that ever. Looking at the pen sitting next a piece of his personal stationary, he contemplated his habit of sending letters that were never responded to. It was about that time, but he couldn't bring himself to write another letter that wouldn't be answered. He briefly toyed with the idea of giving up, but he had waited centuries for love before, he could wait a little longer now.

His driver would be there soon, he realized, looking at the clock. Of course, the driver would wait as long as he had to for Angel to come down to the car. Angel never drove himself anymore, not since what happened to Fred's parents. He never wanted to responsible for a thing like that. He would sometimes take one of the hotrods out, but he always made sure he was sober, which was getting to be less and less often.

He liked being legitimate. He liked walking in the sun, jogging on the beach before work, having lunch with his friends, watching old kungfu movies and doing laps in his pool on Saturday mornings. He knew he liked these things, he just couldn't really figure out why they no longer made him happy. Well, he conceded in his head, he had never been happy, but maybe less depressed when he did these things. Now, he was lucky if he could get out bed in the morning.

When his friends started making a fuss over him he would start getting careful again. He would make sure they couldn't smell alcohol on him, he would smile, make jokes, take everyone out to dinner, make merry and be a pleasure to be around. They weren't making much of a fuss yet, so he figured he wouldn't have to start putting a show on for another couple of weeks.

Glancing at the clock, Angel realized his driver had been waiting for exactly five minutes and twenty-three seconds; the hired man was prompt. Gathering his things into his brief case, he started towards his private elevator. He needed a good workout, and maybe something to eat, and a lot of booze. Will, often his companion when going out, generally didn't bother him about his drinking; maybe because they had been lushes together a lifetime ago. Will knew how much Angel could handle before he got sloppy.

Getting into the back seat of the car, the partition already up, Angel knew his house would be clean when he got home. He employed a housekeeper and a gardener, from nine to five during the week, never on the weekend, and paid them a huge amount for their services. They were loyal, discreet, and good at what they did. Angel was sure that the housekeeper always left around three in the afternoon, but he didn't begrudge her that. She had grandkids in elementary school she took care of, and besides that, the house was always spotless when he got home, the fridge, wine cellar and liquor cabinets were always stocked, the bed turned down, and his clothes laundered. If she could do that on a daily basis, he didn't care early she left.

The house sat on a beautiful acre of land. The gardens were exquisite, and the parlor was situated just right for the perfect rays of sun to paint by. Not that he painted anymore. Mostly, he just slept there. He used the gym and the pool to keep in shape, the kitchen and study, because that was where the booze was, and the living room. For the most part, the house was empty. It was too large for one man to live in alone, but he didn't really have a choice about that, he thought.

Stepping into the kitchen, he flipped through the mail on the counter. Invoices, which were always dealt with by his financial consultant, credit card offers that went into the garbage and some coupons for Best Buy were quickly sorted and organized.

Will answered his cell phone on the third ring. "What the bloody hell do you want? Didn't I just see you a few hours ago?"

"Shut up. Come over, let's go out."

"Can I ask you a question?" Angel could hear the sounds of traffic in the background, Will was driving. "Have you ever eaten in your kitchen?"

"I avoid that as much as possible. Besides, I don't know where Dorita puts the frying pans."

"Look where they were when you first moved in. You haven't touched them since."

"I don't want to cook."

"You're a good cook."

"There's nothing in the fridge," he lied.

Will laughed on the other end of the line. "Bullshit. Dorita makes sure that fridge is always stocked even if most of it gets thrown away every week anyway. There's a ton of stuff there."

Walking to the fridge, he peered inside; it was stocked, as always. Damn it, maybe he should tell her to stop doing that, he thought. "What do you want me to make?"

Angel turned as he heard the front door open and phone disconnect. Will walked through the threshold, smiling like a Cheshire cat as he closed and locked the door behind him. Closing the cell phone, Angel motioned towards the fridge and told Will to choose something.

It was a rarity when they stayed at Angel's house; they mostly always went out. Wes came with them before he had married Fred. Now, it was rare that anyone accompanied them. Gunn was dating a woman named Luciana, a beautiful and somewhat demanding half Spanish woman. Angel thought they were lucky that Wes and Gunn still made it to the beach five mornings a week.

Will made himself useful. He wanted chicken, but had basically let Angel tell him what to do after he had picked out the most basic of ingredients. William was an entirely different man than he had been before that night in the ally. He was still a loose cannon when he wanted to be, and still cursed like a sailor when it suited him, but he had stopped bleaching his hair and put the duster in the back of the closet.

Slacks and button downs were now the major part of his wardrobe; he flatly refused to wear a suit and tie the way Angel sometimes did. He slicked his hair back half the time, the other half of the time it was natural, short and wavy on top of his head. He could still wipe the floor with any demon put in front of him, but he decided the whole being human thing wasn't so bad, and had taken care to become a respectable citizen.

The style change came complete with a personality make over. The mischievous light in his eyes hadn't left, nor had his ability to push the buttons or get under the skin of any person he met. However, he was choosing less and less to push those buttons just for the sheer fun of it. He thought of himself like a kinder version of his previous self; a little less obnoxious. He held his tongue more often, but really made it count when he did want to verbally sting someone.

He used a pen more than a sword these days, using the talents for writing he had given up on so long ago to compose briefs and memos. He could start or stop a war with one letter. Angel had once told him that he was glad Will was using his powers for good instead of evil. Will knew that he was valuable within the company; no one really wanted to make him mad, and therefore the most troublesome clients were sent to him. He dealt with the temperamental ones very well.

"Come one, Peaches, hurry it up. I want my chicken."

Angel gave him a look that had made many men and demons cower, but Will smiled. He hadn't changed so much that Angel could make him be quiet.

Will found the dishes by memory, they had eaten there a few times in last three years, and set the small glass table on the veranda overlooking the rose garden. Will liked the house. It was big, beautiful, very well furnished, and maintained. Angel had good taste, Will had to admit that, even if his own tastes differed somewhat. Will preferred the more modern decorating styles, whereas Angel definitely liked his antiques. Will often complained that Angel lived in the past.

Angel managed to lighten up a bit throughout dinner; he even gave more than monosyllabic responses when Will prompted him. Sitting back, a beer in hand, Will looked at his companion. Angel was on third or fourth whiskey, Will had lost track. "Angel…ever think about getting into a program?"

He laughed, a real laugh, not even a faked chuckle. "That's ridiculous. I'm not an alcoholic."

"Could have fooled me. Oh, wait, you did."

"I drink because…it feels better than most other things. It's a choice, not a compulsion. Really, you know that, you've seen how much I pound back. And I could stop if I wanted."

"I hear that line's a cliché." Will had suddenly turned serious.

"Okay." Angel stood and walked into the kitchen. He poured the reminder of his drink down the sink, opened the fridge, and started pulling the beer out of it. Angel preferred whiskey or scotch, sometimes brandy, put he kept beer around for Will and the guys.

Will watched, a little amused, a little disturbed. He knew Angel could quit, he'd seen him do it. He wasn't an alcoholic in the true sense of the word, but he was definitely a drunk. After watching these proceedings, Will went over to Liquor cabinet and pulled out all the bottles, over a dozen very expensive bottles of booze started to line the counter top.

When the kitchen had been cleaned out and all the bottles had been put in boxes, Angel left a note for Dorita, asking her to stop stocking the house with liquor and to please dispose of all the booze. He emphasized the word 'all' by underlining it.

"Alright…what about the reason you're drinking? I know you're not compelled, so…why?"

Angel sat on the couch and stared blankly at the dark TV screen. Will had seen his friend despondent many times, but this was naked grief he had not seen in a long time, from anyone.

Angel refused to cry. He had been refusing himself that luxury for a long time. He wouldn't grieve over things he had never had in the first place. Not her, not Connor. He wouldn't let himself; he was adamant about that. Instead, he took a very shaky breath, steadied himself, opened his mouth to speak…and nothing came out. The words choked in his throat. He couldn't make himself tell Will about her, or about Connor, or Cordy; in fact, he suddenly felt as if his throat had closed.

He closed his mouth and cleared his throat a few times. His eyes blurred, threatening to open a flow of tears. Clearing his throat again, his voice came to him in a whisper.

"I'm trying," he whispered.

He tried to continue, but his throat closed up again and his eyes started to blur so much he couldn't see. He stood quickly, walking to the bathroom that was hidden off of the living room hallway and shut and locked the door. He heard Will knocking on the door, he heard Will ask him to open the door. He heard the words of attempted comfort. As quiet as he could, he opened the cabinet and took out a razor blade. Rolling up his sleeve, he carefully and noiselessly cut across his forearm, below his elbow.

The pain focused him, his tears dried up before they could fall and his breathing slowed. The blood rolling down his arm settled him in a way that the booze never could. Carefully replacing the blade and quickly putting a bandage over the already healing cut, he pulled his sleeve down and buttoned the wrist.

Will jumped back as Angel opened the door. He looked focused, he wasn't on the verge of tears, he even looked calm to a certain extent. "Are you alright?"

"Just needed to compose myself. I'm okay, Will, really."

Will wasn't convinced, but he doubted there was a bottle hidden under the lid of the toilet. "Do you want to talk now?"

"Will…I'll stop drinking. Really. No more coming drunk to work, I swear. I just…it's been hard. Everything. Difficult adjustments and all that."

"What aren't you telling us? What don't we know, Angel? Because, honestly, if this is over Buffy…"

Will never got to finish his sentence. He looked up, realizing that the ache in his jaw was from Angel's fist and started to pick himself up off the floor. Angel was steaming.

"You don't get to say her name. If I want to talk to you I will, if I don't want to talk to you, I won't. You know all you need to." Turning on his heel, Angel stalked up the stairs, taking them three at a time. He was in his bedroom with the door locked before Will was half way up the steps.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"He just stormed off?" Gunn was leaning against the window sill of his living room. The left side of Will's face was rapidly swelling and the color would definitely not be back to normal by morning. Will and Angel healed rapidly, as rapidly as they had when they were vampires, but that didn't mean that a super strength punch wouldn't have them looking like an eggplant for a couple days.

"Huh…so not just Buffy."

"Right. Not just Buffy. There's something else up with him, something he won't talk about."

Gunn racked his brain. He couldn't think what else would be causing Angel's depression. It had been worsening over time, maybe because he had never expressed what was bothering him. Gunn knew that Buffy could be to blame for all this, but he doubted she was the only problem Angel was facing at the moment.

"We need to talk to Wes. He mentioned something, a long time ago. When we first came to Wolfram and Hart, when you were still in Sunnydale, Wes mentioned these files, the code name was Connor. Nobody had access to these files but Angel. When Wes asked him about it, he got much the same response you did tonight, but with less fists."

"Connor…Angel's last name. What's the connection, there? A person, or a code name?" Will did not want to let on how much he already knew about that file. The knowledge he had was dangerous, and he didn't think he needed to share it any time soon.

"Don't know." Gunn took the ice pack and refilled it with fresh ice in the kitchen. "We should ask Wesley. He might have done some more digging."

"Yeah." It was still early. Well, early for them. Will was still a night owl, although he tried to adjust to the day walker schedule. Old habits die hard, he thought. "What was he doing in that bathroom, do you think? I don't think he counted to ten and took deep breaths."

"Who knows?" Gunn caught the look in Will's eye. He got that look when he was thinking of rather distasteful things. "What? What are you thinking?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I don't want to go telling tales out of school, you know what I mean? No, can't say till I'm sure."

Nodding, but not sure where he was going with this, Gunn took a seat on the couch. There was coffee in front of them, but neither moved to touch it. Will was the first to speak. "We should call Wes."

"We should leave him alone until tomorrow. You don't think Angel'll try anything tonight, do you?"

"You mean do I think he'll kill himself? No, Gunn, I don't think so. Angel loves torturing himself too much for that. Death would mean he could mentally flog himself anymore." The two men sat in silence, trying to figure out what to do with their no longer pointy toothed boss.

Half a dozen blocks or so away, Wes and Fred were sitting in front of a fireplace with a lit fire in it. It was cozy, there was a chill in the air tonight. Of course, that could have been because they were both naked.

"I'm worried for him Wes."

"This is wonderful pillow talk."

She shoved him playfully. "I'm serious. He's acting strange, stranger than normal. I mean, he hasn't been alright for a long time, but it's becoming more pronounced. How long are we going to let this go on for?"

"Fred, I care about him too, but we can't force him to talk to us."

"I think we should kidnap Buffy. Bring her to LA and lock them in a room together. They'd either kill each other or make babies. At this point, I like both those options."

At the mention of babies, they both laid their hands on her stomach. No one knew yet. Mostly because the last time they had told everyone she had miscarried two weeks later. The doctors said it wasn't her fault; her body had been through a lot, and she might not be able to have children. That had been her second miscarriage. Apparently, stealing a body back from a hell god can leave the body a little damaged.

She was almost through her first trimester, a good sign, they were told. If she made it to five months, they were going to tell everyone. Of course, at that point, they would be able to notice anyway. Fred had been trying to gain weight; she had been told that she was dangerously underweight for a pregnancy. She had managed to add five pounds to her slight frame, and that had seemed to help, since she was still pregnant three months later.

She wanted to tell them, but it had been too devastating the last time, having everyone comfort her. She could handle the pain on her own, but she couldn't handle if everyone knew she was in such pain. Maybe that was what Angel was trying to do; deal with the pain by himself because knowing other people knew he was in pain would be too much to bear. She also knew that sometimes it had to be expressed; she wasn't so sure Angel knew that.

"Wes…what were you talking about today, on the phone? A file, named Connor?"

"A theory."

Wesley had been one of few words since Fred's death, but he had been especially mum on this subject.

"Wes, I'm going to get it out of you in ways you may not like."

He shifted and then rose, pulling on his boxers and pants, which had been discarded throughout the living room. "A file only Angel can access. I can't get to it; I can't even get a synopsis of it. It's the only file that only Angel has access to. The only one. It's been destroyed, but a source in filing said that Angel made copies of parts of it. Put it a book."

"You mean those books you use, the blank ones that call up any information you tell it to?"

"Yes, only this book was specifically made for this file, and I suspect Angel put a password on it. It will only call up the file he specifically stored in its memory, and then only when he tells it to, and only him. It's very frustrating, because whatever it is, it has him very up in arms, and he's normally not this secretive with business files."

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't like to speculate, but it has to be a mistake. Something he views as a mistake, anyway. I think it's been weighing on him, that's part of what's making him so…well, not himself. A case, maybe? Resulting in a death. I'm not sure, but I want to know."

"How are you going to do that?" She knew Wes already had a plan, if he hadn't already had a plan since he first learned of this file and the subsequent book it was loaded into.

"Willow is still in town. She'll be here for a while, I think. I'm going to sneak into Angel's house with Willow, find the book, have her open it, and I'm going to read it."

Fred's stunned silence told him exactly what she thought of that idea. He had been fixing sandwiches for both of them as he talked. Wearing nothing but his button down shirt Fred sat at the kitchen table and mutely accepted the sandwich. "That's dangerous. And stupid. If he catches you, he's going to beat the living hell out of you. There's a reason he's hiding that file."

"Not a good one, I'm sure."

They locked eyes and proceeding to have a staring contest that could make the toughest of men blink. She sighed, resigned to the fact that she was not going to change his mind. He was diabolical when he wanted to be.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She never liked winter in England, it rained too much. There was a little snow on the ground, but it was slushy and made her boots a dingy and disgusting brown color. She walked into the dorm, signed in, and made her way upstairs. Walking towards the plain door with only one name on it, she remembered all the fuss the school had gone through to accommodate Dawn's request for a single occupant room. Dawn could have found an apartment, but she said she liked the idea of living with people her own age, if separated by a wall.

When she got to Dawn's door, she raised her hand to knock only to have the door open and a young woman leap at her, hugging her fiercely.

"Buffy! I'm so glad you're here!"

"Hi Dawnie." Shrugging off her coat, she slipped out of her damp boots and set them near the radiator. Dawn quickly cleared a place off on the bed, setting her books on the floor so Buffy could sit.

"I'm almost done with finals. One more, tomorrow, and that's it."

"How's it going?" Buffy made herself comfortable on the navy blue bedding.

"Great. I think I'll make honors again, and this final tomorrow shouldn't be too hard, I've been studying all week for it." Dawn looked so proud of herself. She only had one semester to go and she was finished with her degrees in Ancient Mysticism and Mythical Literature. She had loved college, it was challenging and she took mostly classes she enjoyed. Her enthusiasm almost made Buffy regret not finishing and getting her degree.

"That's really great. I can't wait for you to graduate. Any plans for Christmas?"

"Spend it with you. What else?"

Sighing, Buffy stood and walked the small cinder block room. The white paint did little to hide the modest origins of this glamorized closet. "Well, do you want to stay here?"

Dawn looked at her as if she had three heads. "Didn't Willow call you? She asked me to meet her at LAX when my finals were done. She wants to do something in Crater-dale and then she's got something else planned for Christmas. And she promised shopping in LA, so I haven't gotten any presents yet."

Buffy's mouth went dry at the mention of LA. She didn't think she could handle going back there. Knowing what had happened there, who she had lost, it seemed like too much to confront.

Dawn saw the distress on her sister's face and immediately apologized for her lack of thought. Time had made her careless. Her wounds had healed somewhat, so she had assumed her sister's would have as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry, really, I am. I thought it would be, you know, closure. Buffy, it could be a good thing. You could…start healing."

"I don't want to heal, Dawn! I want to crawl into a hole and never come out."

They sat down, side by side, on the bed. They held each others' hands and let the silence fill the room.

Dawn finally broke the silence. "Buffy, we need to go there. You need to go there. You can't let this city take on such mythical proportions that you never go there again. That will escalate into a fear of California, and then the Western US, and than the whole of America. Nope, can't let that happen. Soon, you won't even want to go near the Pacific Ocean."

Buffy laughed a little and regained her composure. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried to move on. There was the Immortal. That lasted a little longer than five minutes. There was Jean, whom she had met in France while visiting Willow. He had lasted a little less than five minutes. Her last attempt with men had been Simon, a very nice American living in Spain. They had traveled together for a little while until she had been become bored with him and his normality. She had basically given up on men. She didn't find women very appealing, either, so she had mentally declared herself asexual and turned away the affections of anyone who dared flirt with her.

She had tried to find peace. For three years, she had tried, but she could never really convince herself that he was gone. She had always thought that she would feel something if he died, that she would somehow know. She couldn't explain it to anyone, but she had always known he was alive. She hadn't believed Willow when she said Angel was dead. She still didn't believe it. The painful part was, though, if he wasn't dead, why hadn't he contacted her, she asked herself. If he still worked for Wolfram and Hart, and even if he didn't, he could have found a way to find her. She had been careful to stay in places long enough so that he could track her if he wanted.

Buffy knew that was silly. He may not have Willow's power, but he could yield a spell book and a map. He could have found her. He never called, he never wrote. Every time her doorbell rang, her heart jumped into her throat, and for the briefest of moments, the hope she felt was so acute it was almost painful. The person on the other side of the door was never him, nor was it a messenger he had sent, or a long forgotten letter that had somehow made its way to her door.

He didn't want her, she decided. She had once tried to write to him, to tell him that she was cookies, but the absurdity of it stopped her. She couldn't possibly commit that to paper, let alone send it to him. He would think she had gone totally off her nut, she told herself.

"Dawn, I really don't…" She stopped at the pleading and concerned look in Dawn's eyes. Her little sister had grown into such a beautiful and intelligent young woman. It had always been hard to deny her sister anything, and denying this request was impossible. Buffy recognized the pleading look, but she also saw the thinly veiled determination there as well.

Buffy left that evening, heading back to her hotel to repack the few things that she taken out of her suitcase. They were leaving for LAX tomorrow, right after Dawn's final. Buffy had tried to protest, saying that Dawn should rest and relax for a day to recuperate from school, but Dawn was having none of it. As far as she was concerned, Buffy was fishing for excuses to delay their trip.

She didn't sleep that night, even though she knew she should. The jet lag was going to be awful. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get his face to stop haunting her dreams. It was easier not to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

There wasn't anything wrong with throwing a client across a conference room, per se, he thought. Angel just couldn't see what all the fuss about, or why Will was holding him back. This guy was jerk and Angel wanted to hit something, the equation seemed simple, he told himself. Apparently, the other people present weren't following his math.

Will and Wes guided him out of the conference room. Actually, they more or less dragged him from the conference room. If Angel hadn't been exhausted, he might have put up more of a fight. As it was though, he couldn't do much more than protest and try to get out of their grip.

Gunn played clean up, but wonder of wonders, wasn't able to convince the client to stay with the firm. Gunn wasn't sorry about that, the guy was a jerk, but he didn't think Angel should have thrown him across the room. That wasn't kosher, Gunn thought. It didn't take him long to catch up to the others. He could hear the yelling match down the hall.

Angel was pacing the room, yelling with great animation. Gunn was actually a little relieved, this was the most animated he had seen Angel in a very long time. Wes was trying to calm him down, Will was leaning against Angel's desk with a look of great concern on his face, and Gunn quietly positioned himself next the wet bar. He was hoping Angel wasn't going to go for a drink.

"Angel, it doesn't matter how big of an ass that man is, you can't…"

Angel didn't let him finish his sentence, "he beats his wife! He should be in prison, or better yet, beaten within an inch of his life and left to dangle by his ankles from the top of building. We're supposed to stop people like that, not defend them!"

Gunn jumped in, trying to save Wes from what was looking like an argument about to turn physical. "We weren't going to defend him. The evidence is too great. I wanted to talk him into a plea bargain so we could avoid a trial, because there is no way he could win."

"You don't get it! He just blamed his wife for him beating her! She's in the hospital! And this is our client! I…" He stopped, suddenly feeling a little short of breath and very dizzy. He felt hands grabbing at him, and suddenly he was pushed into a chair and his head was being shoved towards his knees. Nausea swept up into his throat, but deep breaths and keeping his head down forced the bile in his throat back down.

Will's voice sounded far away, but it was starting to come into focus. He slowly picked his head up, straightening in the chair, and put his hand up to indicate to Will to stop yelling. The world stopped spinning, but he knew any sudden movements would start the roller coaster from hell feeling again.

"When was the last time you ate?" Wes was staring very intently at him.

He shook his head, trying to force the words out, as feelings he couldn't give name too seemed to wash over him like a wave and drag him into a dark abyss of an ocean he didn't understand. Something was pushed in his hand and his hand was raised to his lips. He drank whatever was in the cup because he thought maybe that would get everyone around him to be quiet and leave him alone. It didn't work.

They were asking him questions he couldn't answer because he couldn't focus long enough to hear the entire question. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the chair and took deep breaths. By the time the feeling of motion, as if on a very unsteady boat, had passed, he could focus.

"Angel, when was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know." It was the truth, he really didn't know. He might have had toast this morning, but it could have been yesterday.

"Drink this." Wesley's voice was hardened and Angel didn't think he'd win a fight if he protested, so he did as he was told.

Gun looked to Will, who was standing there with a guarded look. Will knew something that the others didn't, Gunn realized. He wasn't as stricken as Wes or Gunn.

"You're going to lie down for a little while, and then we are all going to lunch together."

Angel barely managed to nod. He felt an overwhelming exhaustion and was asleep not long after his head hit the padded arm of the couch.

Gunn grabbed Wes and Will by the arm and dragged them into the hall none too gently. "What's going on?" He looked Will in the eye, almost daring him to lie.

"Low blood sugar, probably hasn't slept well in…oh, I don't know, half a decade, or so. And that struck a little to close to home."

"What does that mean?"

"Normally, he would have handled it. Maybe not well, but he could have handled it. In his state, lately, this knocked him on his ass."

Gunn knew when Will was trying to get around answering a question, but he was normally very good at it.

Sighing heavily, he motioned for Wes and Gunn to follow him down the hall to his office. Once inside and the door closed, Will sat down heavily.

"When Angel was a human, when he really was Liam O'Connor, he lived in Galway; he was a ne'er-do-well son of a textiles merchant. His old man was a drunk, and not a pleasant one. He knocked around Liam's mum in front of him. Liam didn't fair much better. Didn't you ever wonder why he was so hard nosed about the domestic cases? Why he won't compromise on those? Well, there's why."

The other two sat in stunned silence. Wesley had an idea of this life, but Gunn had never heard anything of it before.

Turning to face Will fully, Gunn finally found his tongue. "How do you know this?"

"Known him a lot lounger than the two of you put together. We used to drink until we couldn't see, carouse until we were too tired to walk, and kill until streets were paved in dried blood. I know a lot about him no one else knows. His tongue loosens a bit when he's under the sail."

"The straw on the proverbial camel's back." Wesley stood just as Fred burst into the room and slammed the door behind her.

"What the hell is going on? Was he drunk? And why didn't anyone call me? I have to find out from secretaries in the ladies bathroom?" She was fuming again, and Wes was not going to deal with this crisis now. He had too much to think about at the moment. Fortunately, Will took over explaining the situation.

After hearing the entire story, Fred stood at the window, contemplating the darkening city before her. Clouds were rolling in, threatening a heavy noon rain. "He needs help."

"What do you propose, love, an exorcism? Let him work it out. He stopped drinking; now he just has to fill that void. Hopefully some of that void will get filled with food and sleep."

"In the meantime, Will, I think he needs to take time off. He needs to go home, rest. Some recoup time would do the man some good," Gunn said.

Wesley had listened patiently until now. The last thing he wanted was Angel stuck in his house for an indefinite period of time. "Actually, I think maybe some time in the mountains could do him good. He should get away from the city. Distance from his responsibilities may be the best thing for him right now." He caught Fred's knowing stare, but she didn't reveal anything to the others. He loved her for good reason.

The door opened again, and the topic of their conversation was standing in the doorway. He looked at them, a mixture of shame and reproach on his features. "You can't send me away. I'm a person, you know. I think I have some say in if I leave or not." His voice was quiet, a calmer voice than they had heard in a long time, but the tinge of sadness was more pronounced now.

Fred was the first to fill the space before herself and Angel. She wrapped her arms around him. The surprise was obvious on his face, and he seemed to put his arms around her because he felt he had to. She didn't let go, though, and eventually obligation turned to something else. His eyes closed and his hold on her tightened.

He released a shaky breath from his chest, and Fred turned her head just a fraction of an inch so that her lips were right next to his ear. No one else in the room could hear what she said, because she said it low enough that only a being with super hearing who was inches away could hear her. "You're still my hero, Angel."

His shoulders slumped and his hold tightened on her. The pain in his chest expanded and exploded outwards, threatening to take him under the waves again. Breathing deep, he felt Fred start to pull away.

"You're too thin. You look like a skeleton. You've got to eat, and then you are going home and going to bed."

"I can eat at home. You guys can finish up here…"

"No. Are you anorexic? Please don't add that to the list of problems we've already got. Sit down, I'll order Chinese."

The smile she got from him was slight, but it was there all the same. She pointedly directed a shame-on-you look in Wesley's direction as she walked to the phone. Angel felt ashamed of showing such weakness in front of them. He looked at his shoes, trying to make his sluggish brain think of something to say. Will saved him the trouble.

"Sit the hell down, already. You make a depressing statue."

Gunn immediately started a conversation that had nothing to do with Angel or his personal life. Angel didn't contribute much, but he was able to be more than a depressing statue, at least, he thought. By the time the food was delivered, he felt almost like a real person again.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

LA was sunny. She remembered California as being sunny, but this was a little ridiculous, she thought. Slipping her enlarged shades down her head to cover her eyes, she turned to her sister. Dawn had sworn up and down Willow would be there to meet them. She turned in time to see her red haired friend get out a car, grinning ear to ear.

"Buffy!" It had been a long time since Willow had seen her best friend. "Oh my gosh, your hair!" It was long and dark, hanging past her shoulders in a relaxed wave. She had ditched her blonde locks almost a year ago, but her and Willow had only spoken on the phone since then.

The skinny jeans and high heals accentuated her slim figure and the v-cut flowing white peasant blouse enhanced her curves in all the right ways. The dark hair only served to make her green eyes brighter, and Willow decided she liked her friend's new look.

The trio of women exchanged pleasantries and hugs, and loaded the rental car with luggage. Buffy had learned to travel light; she only had one suitcase for an indefinitely long trip. She had survived on less, though, so she wasn't concerned she would run out of clothes anytime soon.

They played catch up during the drive to the hotel; Willow wanted to know everything about Buffy's world sojourn. Buffy regaled them with tales of lost train tickets, flirtatious bellboys and beautiful scenery. Both Buffy and Willow wanted Dawn to tell them everything about the people she had met at college, partly because they were interested and partly because they wanted to make sure she wasn't hanging around with a bad crowd.

The hotel was nice, Buffy decided. Not too shabby she thought; of course, she reasoned, the council can afford to put all of us up in a nice place for a while. A bellman took their bags and lead to a small but cozy room on the third floor which Dawn and Buffy would be staying in.

A scream came from Dawn's lips as she answered the knock that came at the door only a few minutes after they had set their suitcases down. Xander enveloped her in a hug, squeezing her for all he was worth and was squeezed in return. Giles came in behind Xander, giving the younger people present a small grin and fiercely hugging Buffy.

Buffy tried to pay attention to what everyone was saying. She listened to everyone sharing stories of their lives, talking about what they did the last Christmas. She was trying very hard to participate in the conversation, do her part to carry it along. She was having trouble concentrating. She had felt strange the minute the plane had touched down, as if something or someone was calling her, pulling her into the city.

The force was stronger now. She felt its continued persistence with every passing minute. Adding to her distraction were the looks Giles, Willow and Xander kept giving each other; as if they had a secret they knew they had to tell but couldn't. She found it hard to pay attention to the conversation with the guilt emanating from Willow. What did Willow have to feel guilty about, she wondered. She would have to wait to ask her, now was not the time, Buffy told herself.

The group stayed up into the early hours of the morning talking and reminiscing. They were all jet lagged, especially the new arrivals, and Buffy knew that Dawn was desperate to go shopping in the morning. She politely asked everyone to leave when she felt that the conversation had died down they were starting to look for an excuse to leave and go to bed.

Laying in bed a few hours later, the first rays of the morning sun peaking through the cracks in the curtains, she allowed a few silent tears to fall down her cheeks. Dawn's steady breathing told her that she was asleep and probably had been for hours. Buffy knew she probably wouldn't sleep at all. That was nothing new to her. She had lived on the minimum amount of sleep necessary to survive since she had become a slayer. More recently, dreams had plagued her sleep, and she had tried to avoid it at all costs.

Coffee kept her conscious during the day. She was willing to live with exhaustion as long as she could avoid his face in her dreams. Even her good memories were tainted with visions of death and accusing taunts. The most secret part inside of her that kept certain memories sacred refused to allow her to remember some things. She reasoned to herself that if she remembered them, they could be tainted. It was better to keep those things to herself, locked away securely where inner demons couldn't desecrate them.

Rolling on her side to stare at the wall, she tried not to think about what had happened in an alley somewhere in the middle of LA. She tried not to think of where he was now. She didn't believe he was dead, but if he was she was sure he was in heaven. No one who sacrificed so much could be turned away by the Powers. He was probably in a small hole in the wall in New York, trying to live an anonymous and quiet existence. Probably trying to lead a life without her, she thought. She told herself he was probably succeeding since he hadn't even tried to contact her.

She tried to fight the pain from exploding in her chest. Forcing her shoulders to be still, she refused to let a few stray tears turn into a full fledged bout of sobbing. One thought kept running unbidden through her head no matter what she did to make it go away. He didn't want her. He had moved on. She briefly wondered what the secret was to that, and then banished that thought as quickly as it had appeared. She didn't want to forget him. She didn't want to live without him.

Taking a deep breath and looking at the clock, she thought she could probably get up now without raising too many suspicions. Stripping her lounge pants and t-shirt off and throwing them on the bathroom floor, she stepped into the hot spray of the shower. Her shoulders ached from the constant tension she carried there; there had been a constant ache at the top and back of her neck for a very long time. A man she once met, and had ended up spilling her guts too on a train, had told her she was depressed.

Great, she had thought. She would just go to a psychiatrist and say that her ex-boyfriend, whom she had once killed and sent to hell for a hundred years, came back and years later fought in a huge battle to save Earth and basically faked his death so she would leave him alone. If that wouldn't get her locked up in nice, quiet white room, nothing would. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, she thought. Fed, bathed, sedated. Her life could be worse than that.

She heard Dawn rustling around in the bedroom and finished washing her hair, which seemed to take a lot of effort. She wrapped a towel around her hair and around her chest and walked out of the bathroom, listening to Dawn talk a mile a minute about what shops she wanted to go to and how good it would be for Buffy to get out and try to have a little fun.

Buffy had to stop her lips from making a rather rude sound. She couldn't really remember a time when everyone wasn't trying to tell her what would be good for her. She had been mostly independent since leaving Sunnydale, but every time she tried to talk to her friends, they tried to give her some kind of sage advice. Buffy was fairly confident she could control her own life, but she didn't want to step on the toes of the people already doing it for her.

Buffy dressed as Dawn showered and then blow dried her hair as Dawn dressed. She dressed casually, in flat shoes for comfort, but she knew that winter in LA could be chilly. Remembering one winter when it snowed and caught herself before the strangling sound could fully escape her throat. Dawn looked at her funny, and Buffy cleared her throat, saying she could use a drink.

Down the hall, Giles was sitting at the desk that the hotel room came equipped with. Xander and Willow were sitting on the bed across from him. The two men were paying rapt attention as Willow spoke.

"We have to go there. We have to take Buffy there. If they won't talk to us, if they won't tell us how he is, then we have to take her there. She'll get it out of them. He'll probably show up if she goes there."

"Willow…Buffy has been…well, she hasn't been herself. You know, she's been shaken by this whole Angel died thing, which turns out to be one big oops. If we take her there and just spring Angel on her, well, that could turn out bad. As in she kills Giles bad. And then Wolfram and Hart will bring him back so Angel can take a turn. He's not gonna be to happy knowing the real reason why the woman of his dreams hasn't responded to him."

"I agree, Xander, it could turn out very bad for all people involved, but…it's not right to keep them separated. They both want to know what happened to the other so badly. It wouldn't be right for us to bring her here and then chicken out."

Giles stood and starting pacing. If Angel wasn't evil, if his cautiousness had been unfounded, Buffy would never forgive him. Even if Angel was evil, she might not forgive him for his interference. And Angel wouldn't react very well either. It had to be done, though. They had to meet. Willow wouldn't stop until they did. At least maybe he would have a chance to beg Buffy's forgiveness, explain why he acted as he did. She probably wouldn't give him that chance, but if he ran away back to England now she would certainly take that as a sign of guilt and cowardice that would not be easily forgotten.

"This has to be done carefully. Either one of them could have extremely violent reactions. Perhaps we could go to one of the associates, other than Fred, and explain the situation. Ask that someone be there to act almost as a mediator, someone Angel is close to so he doesn't feel ganged up on."

"Giles, everyone Angel is close to there, we know."

"What about the Benson guy, Will? You showed me a breakdown of the company, remember? Wes, Fred, some guy named Gunn you said you've met before, and Benson. Why don't we go talk to him, he doesn't know us and therefore probably doesn't hate us as much as the others."

She nodded ascent. He seemed like a nice guy on paper. Vice President of Wolfram and Hart; only Angel was higher ranking than him. He was born in England and immigrated to the United States a little more than ten years ago, to go to Stanford. He had earned a business degree and started working internships at law firms while earning a law degree. He had been working at Wolfram and Hart since after the almost apocalypse. Being that most people had been killed at the company because they were evil, he had risen through the ranks very quickly and had become a popular and well liked Vice President. At least that was what the Wolfram and Hart website said, she thought. She had of course had all this corroborated by an inside source, who described the second in command as tall, dark, handsome and well built.

"He could be good. I like that idea. I'll call, make an appointment with him."

"Don't they know us now at security? Can we get in there without being shot on site? I'm sure Fred told them not to let us in there again."

"I can do a small cloaking spell. They won't recognize us."

Shaking his head, Giles interrupted her, "Willow, Wolfram and Hart employs people that detect magic. If you so much as make a pencil fly, they'll know about it."

"So I'll tell them I'm a witch, a potential client, and I'm bringing my advisors with me. That will explain the magic they'll sense. And I can cloak the magic for a time, too. They won't feel me until I want them to."

Xander had to suppress a shudder at the power his friend had and was willing to use. At least she's on our side, he thought. They decided that tomorrow would be the day. Buffy should have some time to try and enjoy herself before they tore open old and not well healed wounds.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Angel was in the med-lab. He had been subtly trying to enquire as to the health of hybrids, the name the scientists had given Will and him. He was quickly coming to understand that they didn't know very much.

His headaches had been becoming more and more frequent; they were coming on quicker and with more intensity than they had before. Besides the headaches was the fact that he just didn't feel well. He couldn't really describe his symptoms. Sometimes he was lightheaded, sometimes his legs felt like lead. Angel told himself that if the bozo in front of him couldn't tell him the first thing about his physiology, then he certainly was not going to ask the doctor to examine him. That would lead to poking and prodding, tests, scans, and a lot of hassle over what was probably, Angel believed, to be the result of quitting drinking.

He had almost convinced himself that he was going through some kind of withdrawal. He had some symptoms. His hands shook a little sometimes and he was a little feverish. Other than that, none of the symptoms matched up, but that was because no one knew how withdrawal would affect a hybrid, he told himself. Angel was sure his problems would go away if just held out a little longer. He refused to admit to himself that even before he stopped drinking he hadn't been feeling right. In fact, it had been almost two weeks of the same symptoms. He had decided that the incident after he tossed a client around the conference room a few days ago had been the worst of the symptoms. He hadn't blacked out before then.

Walking back to his office, he shivered a little. It wasn't cold in the hallways, so he blamed it on the memories of that incident. He would have slept longer on the couch in his office if the nightmares hadn't woken him up so suddenly. The dreams had been getting worse for months, and lately, he had been trying to avoid sleeping altogether. They were vivid and horrendous. Memories of his past life, of what he had done as the demon, plagued his unconscious hours.

He had tried talking to Wes about the health concerns of hybrids last week. Wes seemed to know more than that idiot doctor, Angel thought, but that still wasn't much. He and Will healed quickly; about at the same rate they did when they were vampires. Wes had tried to explain his mix up when translating the Shanshu. As Angel understood it, it boiled down to the fact that the word Wesley thought meant human actually literally translated as day-walker. At the time, Wes had concluded that meant human. They knew better now.

The fact that he still had most of his vampire abilities had turned out to be a double edged sword. They both had their senses, agility, stamina, speed, strength and healing. No one knew, though, if poisons effective against only vampires could affect them, or if poisons used on humans would affect them the same way it would a human. Wesley was basing most of his assumptions off of the physiology of the slayer.

Angel knew this, but he chose not to acknowledge it out loud. Wesley had explained that even though he could heal quickly and wasn't affected to the extent humans were by simple bacteria and viruses, that didn't mean he was invincible. If he pushed his body far enough, destroyed his immune system enough, Angel could get sick, Wesley had explained. It would take a lot to compromise his natural defenses, but it wasn't impossible, or even improbable. Angel really didn't want to think that he was sick. He hadn't been sick since the last time he was poisoned, and he knew of no poison that would do to him what was happening to his body now.

He couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than an hour at a time, and that was a lot for him these days. His appetite hadn't really come back, yet, either. Most of the time, he felt a little lightheaded, and he didn't think his stomach would really take well to food. During the past week, nausea had started to accompany the lightheadedness. That was further incentive to skip meals. He figured, even if he was sick with some disease, his body would heal like it did from any other wound: quickly and with little effort on his part. There were times when he could feel his pulse racing, but he could normally get it to slow with deep breathing exercises.

Pushing any concerns about his health out of his mind, he got down to business. There were papers to be looked at and signed, a brief Will wrote that he had to be approved, a stack of minutes from board meetings that needed his approval. The stack on his desk didn't seem to grow any smaller, even as he signed and read and signed and read until his eyes blurred. When he finally looked at a clock, he had to blink a few times to make sure his vision wasn't failing either. It was almost midnight. His driver had probably left, not that he couldn't drive himself now that he was sober.

He hadn't needed the release the razor afforded him in a few days. He counted that as a good sign, a sign that maybe he was starting to get it together a little more. Maybe he wasn't such a complete screw up, he thought. After contemplating that, he decided, that no, he really was a total screw up and probably shouldn't try to convince himself otherwise.

Standing, he stretched his sore muscles, muscles that had been sitting for far too long. As he started doing a few simple tai chi moves to wake his body up, he felt stinging bile rise in his throat. He almost didn't make it in time to his private bathroom before he started retching.

There wasn't much in his system to purge. Somehow, though, his body found matter to expel. He sat on the cold tile floor, his head against the wall, knowing he was feverish and should probably go down to the med-lab. He wasn't going to, though. He was going to rinse his mouth out and wash his face and go home and try to get some sleep.

The people in the med-lab would tell him to take it easy, get some rest, relax. As if he could really do any of those things. It seemed that every time he turned his back just for a moment the world went to hell in a hand basket. No, he thought, he needed to keep going, wait it out. This will pass, he told himself.

He finished some paperwork, and approved the rather beautifully written proposal Will had composed, and then packed his brief case. It was nearly two in the morning, and he was meeting the guys at six to run on the beach. They had been meeting four or five days a week for about a year. They rarely met on the weekends, and all of them enjoyed the quiet time in the morning, when few others were on the beach. They all had headphones glued to their ears during the run, it was too much effort to talk most of the time, but the comradely feelings were there none the less.

His driver wasn't there, but another was in his place. Of course, Dan wouldn't leave him stranded. Not that he was technically stranded, but he glad all the same, he was a little too tired to drive. He managed to shower and slip into bed without further problems, but only managed an hour or so of sleep before he bolted upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat.

It was almost time to get up anyway, he reasoned. He needed to shower and try to eat a piece of toast before he met the others at the beach. The shower he accomplished, but some part of him rebelled at the thought of food the minute the toast was done. When he joined the others on the beach, they had started stretching and warming up already. No one needed to say anything, words were unnecessary between them during these times. Angel quickly joined the warm up; turned on his MP3 player and slipped it into the arm band he wore to carry it.

They started out slow, giving themselves a chance to get acclimated. Will and Angel also wanted to give Gunn and Wes a fighting chance of keeping up. By seven, they were all out of breath and almost complete with their warm down. Angel had started out with a sweat shirt and long sleeve tee shirt, but the sweat shirt was now tied around his waist. Gunn had followed suit.

Leaning against the car, Angel closed his eyes and steadied himself. He had been running on fumes for so long he wasn't sure he could remember a time when jogging wouldn't have exhausted him so much. He felt like he could sleep for a week. His head swam and his legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to stay on his feet.

"You alright, man?" Gunn lightly clapped him on the shoulder.

"Getting old." He managed a slight smile and got into his car. He needed to shower and change so he could be in the office by nine.

A strange feeling was tugging at him. The nudging had been becoming more insistent over the past couple of days. It had been strongest yesterday, but was growing even now. It was a feeling that was almost commanding him to start towards downtown, as if some higher being was sending him hunches instead of visions. He tried to shrug it off. He told himself that if the Powers wanted him to go somewhere, they would send him a seer to tell him so.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest when a young man with shaggy dark hair crossed the street right next to where his car was parked at a red light. It wasn't Connor. Angel could sense that right away, but the feelings the almost sighting caused Angel could not be denied. A longing spread throughout him, but he violently stuffed it back into whatever corner it came from. It would swallow him whole and he would never come up out of the sea of despair that would claim him if he allowed those regrets to surface. He would be trapped at the bottom of the ocean forever, he told himself.

His fists clenched at the unbidden memory. His mind was a rotten thing, he thought. It tortured him any chance it got. Sighing, he closed his eyes for the rest of the trip home.

Showering and changing didn't take long and the car was pulling into the lot of the law firm before Angel could remember getting into the vehicle. Time was escaping him lately; he would start reading briefs and realize four hours had passed without his noticing. He would be in the shower one minute and walking towards his office the next. He would have been alarmed if he had the energy to feel such an emotion.

Disassociation. It was called disassociation, he remembered. He had read that online when he googled time loss. Pop psychiatrists said it indicated trauma. That was laughable. Angel's life was the definition of trauma. He blamed himself for the vast majority of it. He sat down at his desk, a cup of coffee waiting for him already and got started on the new day.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Why are we going there?" Buffy's stance didn't convey the animosity she felt at the moment. She was extremely suspicious about to traveling to former employers of her supposedly dead ex-boyfriend. As far as she was concerned, they had killed Angel the moment he walked through their doors.

"I have an informant within the company that tells me we should be concerned about some of their recent transactions. We have an appointment with the vice president to discuss these concerns." Giles figured another lie now wouldn't make much of a difference in the long run if it helped to fix the mistakes he previously made.

Buffy nodded, not really believing what she was hearing. "Why are Dawn and I going if this is Council business?"

"Dawn doesn't have to go, but she has never been excluded before. You may be needed if he becomes threatening. Willow's powers may be muted inside that building."

"They have these beings that block magical energy. It's supposed to make the building a more even playing ground. I may not be able to use my powers to the full extent."

"'Sides, Buff, it'll be nice to have the gang together again. You know, for old times sake, and all that jazz."

"That's cute, Xander. Old times. Because they were so great." Buffy almost slapped her hand over her mouth after she heard her rebellious tongue speak the words her brain hadn't even formed yet. "Oh…I'm sorry, I didn't mean that…I'm a little tired. Really, I'm sorry I'm so cranky. Let's go." She picked up her purse, trying to avoid the eyes that now seemed to all be downcast. Great, she thought, I killed the mood again. Go Buffy.

The car ride was mostly silent. She could feel Willow tensing at her side as the neared the building. Buffy chalked it up to the fact that Willow would be, for all intents and purposed, neutered once they were inside. That would have made her nervous too.

The security guard didn't recognize them, as Willow was sure they wouldn't. Xander was cool as a cucumber, the red head noticed, proud of her friend for turning into such a confident man.

A secretary met them at the elevator and led them to a small conference room. "Mr. Benson will be with you soon. Please have a seat and make yourselves comfortable." She offered them refreshments, brought them their respective coffees and teas, and assured them Mr. Benson would be with them shortly.

The room was spacious but not so large that the occupants would feel dwarfed. It was modestly but tastefully decorated, the chairs were cozy and obviously expensive, and the staff seemed pleasant if not very business like. Buffy decided she could get used to a place like this. If it wasn't evil, that was.

Yeah, she thought, that could slow my career here down. I'd kill all the clients.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

He was late. A new client had requested a meeting with him, a client that could generate a lot of revenue and be of great use in other areas. It was always handy to have a witch on your side.

Will heard the phone on Margaret's desk ring as walked by, but it wasn't until he had reached to open the door that she called his name. The movement was started however, and he entered the room before she caught up to him.

The files in his hands dropped to the floor. As did his jaw. The five people staring back at him looked no less shocked. For a few moments, time stopped and lasted forever. Margaret was saying something about security and magic and this group of people, but he didn't really hear her. She had picked up the files and papers, though they weren't in any kind of order now, and was frantically apologizing. She was about to call security when Will raised his hand.

His voice was barely above a hiss when he ordered her out of the room. She left, red faced, closing the door behind her. Will still couldn't find his voice, and the gorgeous brunette that had locked eyes with him didn't seem to have one either.

Anger was quickly replacing shock. How dare they show up here, in his conference room, after lying about who they were and conniving to get into the building undetected. Flashes of the past years, the devastation that had racked Angel and what it had done to the team, filled his mind, and in an instant he had amazing clarity.

He dumped the paperwork unceremoniously on the table in front of Buffy and turned on his heel. He wanted space between them. Facing her, he glared, thinking of the best way to tell them to get the hell out. The look on her face stayed his words. Tears were rolling silently down her cheeks. The look on her face was locked into one he imagined a catatonic would have.

He slowly licked his lips, and swallowed the lump in his throat. As he opened his mouth to speak, Dawn spoke up.

"Spike!" She was on her feet and closing the distance between them before he could react. He didn't even try to catch the wrist attached to the hand that slapped him. He let her hit him again but caught her on the third try.

"You get two for free." His voice was quiet, a little above a whisper. He gently relaxed his grip on her wrist. She made no move to slap him again.

"You're dead."

"I was."

Giles was the first to speak. "Sit down, Dawn. Please."

Before he could continue, Buffy was standing. "You died. I saw you die."

"I got over it."

Her blank visage was replaced by rage. She took a step forward but stopped, not trusting what she would do to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Will's anger changed to consternation. His mind raced a hundred miles per hour. "You didn't know? You didn't know I was alive? How is that possible?"

She exploded. "How was I supposed to know?" Her voice was hoarse she screamed so loudly. "Fucking telepathy? How was I supposed to know!" Her fists flew towards him almost faster than he could fight them back.

He took a defensive position, blocking her attacks, but she was able to land a few good blows. His own anger rose to meet hers and he lashed out, grabbing her wrists and turning her body so her back was to his chest. His arms crossed across her chest and held her arms down.

"I am no longer the man that will take your punches to make you feel better. Understand?" he released her none to gently, shoving her a few feet away in the process.

Everyone in the room was on their feet. Willow looked stricken, and Xander was trying very hard not to show his anger.

"What are you doing here?"

Willow managed to find her voice. "Fred didn't tell you we were here?"

"No, it must have slipped her mind." His arms crossed and his posture moved to one of downright animosity.

"Why are you mad at me? You selfish bastard, what did I do? How was I supposed to know?" Buffy was screaming again.

"I'm selfish? You little trollop, what about us? What about Angel? Did you ever think of him?" The look on her face stopped him cold. She really didn't know. The mention if Angel's name had frozen her to the spot. He watched as her shoulders shook a little and she seemed to be about to faint.

He still had his reflexes. He reached her before anyone else had made a move. He grabbed her wrists and shook her. Barely containing his anger, he shook her, yelling into her face. "You had to know! We told you! You knew! Buffy…" he looked at her, his anger breaking.

She watched pain break across his features before she pulled herself away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The naked pain on her face could convince him of no other truth than what she was saying. His mind starting racing again, thinking of all the possible reasons she wouldn't have known. He came to only one conclusion. Looking towards the back of the room, he immediately singled Giles out. The man knew more than he was letting on.

"Start talking Jeeves."

Before Giles could open his mouth, Will muttered a curse under his breath as the door to the conference room door nearly flew off its hinges.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Angel stood staring. He couldn't do much more than that. The woman across from his stared too. Will reached behind Angel to close the door and give them privacy. Not that this battle wouldn't be heard throughout the entire building, anyway. He knew this was going to one hell of a fight.

"Angel." Her voice was a whisper, and the word held awe and longing and so much more that Angel's mind just couldn't comprehend at the moment.

He had heard the yelling from three floors below in the archives. His head was pounding and he had been searching through tomes of dusty books that made his eyes water and his nose itch for hours. He wasn't getting anywhere. He could feel blood rushing in his ears and he felt like he was going to be sick again. When the yelling had reached his already pained senses, he had decided he was going to kill whoever was doing the fighting. He was the boss; he could do things like that.

As the elevator rose steadily to the conference floor, he could make out the words a little clearer. He wasn't trying to understand them, though. His senses were going haywire as far he could tell. The smells he could swear where on this floor made him believe one hundred percent in his insanity. There was no way he could smell those scents here, now.

His anger had built as he neared the door. He knew his head was cloudy, he wasn't thinking too clearly, but in a moment it wouldn't matter, because he was going to rip someone's head off. That would make him feel better.

Throwing the door open, his feet refused to move more than a foot inside the threshold. He barely saw Will move, and he couldn't really determine what he had done behind him. She was standing there, staring at him. When she said his name he thought he would die. His chest stopped working; his lungs weren't taking in air anymore. He tried to make his mouth move but he was frozen in place.

He didn't notice anyone else in the room, and no one made a move to speak.

"Angel." She repeated the name, as if tasting a new thing she couldn't quite decide if she liked or not.

"What are you doing here?" His voice and ability to move returned to him all in a rush.

She looked hurt. "I…don't know. You're alive."

"Have been for a while."

"How? When? How?"

The confusion must have showed on his face, because she made a move to speak again. He cut her off. "I told you! How could you not know? I made sure you would know!"

"I didn't!"

"That's not possible!"

"Why does everyone think that?" She was screaming again and his head protested sharply. His vision swam for a second, but he ruthlessly got control of himself.

The door burst open again and Gunn, Wes and Fred came rushing in. Will motioned for them to calm down, but Fred looked ready to tear people apart.

"What are you doing here?" Her words were dripping with venom.

Buffy looked at the angry faces directed towards her and she knew. She knew they hated her. Inside, she thought, she had always known that Angel hated her. He had to hate her to deny her in such an awful way. The looks of these people were almost too much for her bare, their naked hatred of her laid before here with no shame or apologies. She swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say. What could make this better?

Will jumped in. "She didn't know. She really didn't." Looking towards the scoobies in the back, "someone better start explaining right now."

Buffy couldn't bring herself to hit Angel, but she was awfully close. "What are you talking about?"

He wanted to scream, he wanted to shake sense into her, he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right then, without a damn for who was watching. He did none of things. His body was giving up. He could feel oblivion clawing at him. His voice came out deceptively calm and quiet, despite the turmoil that was raging inside him.

"I wrote you letters. A dozen letters, maybe more. I begged you…I begged you to contact me."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"If you wouldn't fulfill my request in a letter, why would you answer your phone?"

Her voice matched his in quality for a moment. "I never got any letters." She wanted to tear her hair out, rip his clothes off, ravage his mouth, scream until he begged for forgiveness and then make love to him on the floor. Instead, she stood stalk still, wondering what in the world he was talking about. One of them was crazy and she was equally divided in her choices.

Her words hit him like no fist ever could. Months of wondering, years of pain, the constant feelings of rejection, the dozens of times he tried to make himself hate her. All of it came back to him with a vengeance. His head spun, he opened his mouth to speak, and plummeted into oblivion.

Buffy saw him going down before he started to move. His eyes looked lost for a moment and his mouth moved but no words came out. His hand rose and made a small motion of reaching towards her, but his knees gave out before he could finish the movement.

Buffy ran towards him as he crumpled like a cheap paper fan. Will reached him first, grabbing his shoulders before his head could hit the floor. Wesley was by his side in an instant, checking his pulse. Gunn was on the phone calling for a medic.

Wes called his name, shook his shoulders a bit and checked his pupils. "Where the hell is that medic?"

"He's burning up!" Buffy pulled her hand back from his forehead, feeling that no person could be that feverish and still be alive.

Buffy watched in a blur as he was lifted onto a stretcher and rushed into an elevator. Fred led them to a second elevator and got to some floor Buffy hadn't paid attention to just as the stretcher passed them. A doctor met the group at the entrance to some kind of medical unit and told them to wait in the lounge.

Will paced, Wesley looked pissed, and Buffy couldn't decide what she felt. Wesley periodically went to talk to doctors, who always told him the same thing. They were stabilizing him and would know more soon. After almost an hour, Fred stood and marched towards the double doors.

"Fred…"

"They will talk to me, Wesley." The look in her eyes made them all believe that the doctors would in fact have little choice but to talk to Fred.

"Will he be alright?"

"I don't know Buffy." Wesley seemed to be making an occupation of studying the paint on the far wall.

"Has he…has he been sick?"

Will made a rather rude snorting noise. "Not like he'd tell us if he was."

Gunn shook his head, "he was fine this morning. We went a run, he was fine. What…poison? Sabotage of the company? I mean, he was…" Gunn went back to studying his shoes, his gift for articulation suddenly failing him.

Fred came back a short time later. "He's sick. He's been sick. He was in here the other day asking one of the doctors about hybrid health."

Wes's face suddenly changed. "He asked me about that last week. I couldn't tell him much."

She continued, "His temperature is 102.3. They're treating him for dehydration and exhaustion. He's malnourished, and his blood pressure was around 175 over 110 when they last checked. He's been sick for a while, judging by how dehydrated he is. They still don't know why, but one of them said it's probably an infection."

"Infection? His body fights things like that, doesn't it? I mean…"

"It will, Gunn, but if his immune system is compromised, I mean extremely compromised, he could become ill."

"This bad, though?" Willow was having a hard time believing that Angel could be that run down.

"They're going to pump him full of antibiotics. We'll be able to see him in the morning."

As Buffy leaned back in the chair, Fred turned to the doors, her head cocked at an odd angle.

Wesley stood, immediately recognizing that stance. She was on guard. It was a reflex Fred had absorbed from Illyria and couldn't quite get rid of. "What is it?"

"It's too quiet." Will answered for her, already on his feet and heading towards the med area.

The instruments that were presumably once on tables were scattered on the ground. The doctor Fred had spoken to was lying near the bed, a needled sticking out of his neck. Angel was no where in site. Two nurses were unconscious and draped over chairs, and the IVs that had once been in a body were hanging limply from their stands.

"Where would he go?" Buffy immediately turned to the group beside her knew Angel the best.

"He went home. I'd put on money on it."

"Take me there."

Will nodded to her demand and she followed him to the car. Willow, Dawn and Xander weren't far behind. Giles stood where he was, knowing full well that Wesley was going to have some questions for him.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

He managed to get home in one piece, without killing anyone. His head was swimming as he drove. Driving drunk was better than this, he thought. He made it inside, but didn't remember if he set the alarm afterwards. He stripped off the hastily put on clothing as he made his ways up the stairs. He was burning one minute, shivering the next. Climbing into bed, he let his feverish body relax under the cool sheets.

There were times he felt a cool towel on his chest or forehead. He could almost hear voices sometimes, but they were swept away on the winds. The winds here blew fiercely. They carried away his reason and logic and motor functions. They pushed him this way and that, into places of his mind he didn't want to travel. The wind didn't care.

He yelled at the wind, he begged the wind. He wanted to be sedentary. He wanted to stop moving through the vines of memories. They were covered with thorns and tore at him as he went. The vines had names, stories, places they were from. Some vines were shaped like people. Those were the most painful to touch. The wind blew him into these the most.

When he wasn't trapped, when he could get away from the tearing of his skin, he was in a safe place. He was never there long. There were soothing voices and gentle hands in the safe place. But a whirlwind always sucked him back down. The wind chased him. It looked like wolves sometimes. Other times, it was gentle, caressing, it convinced him to follow it with its light rustle of leaves and sweet high pitched sound.

Part of him never wanted to go with this wind, but he never really had a choice. If he refused, it dragged him and that hurt worse. The field of memories crushed him. The ground rose up and swelled around him, trapping him. He was naked and voiceless and nothing he did mattered at all. The faces were angry. The vines lashed at him. No matter how hard he tried to cry out, no sound ever came.

Buffy watched his face, the anguish on it. He hadn't woken up in the past five hours. She knew the fever would break soon. He was staying awake longer and longer when he did come to. They had found him here, sleeping fitfully, the sheets drenched with sweat. Will had picked him up with little effort and moved him so the others could quickly change the sheets.

Will had called Wes to apprise him of the situation. It was universally decided that one group would stay with Angel and the other would stay with Giles to sort the whole mess out. Fred was in the lab working on the blood samples but she was fairly confidant he could overcome whatever it was with rest and adequate nutrition.

Fred had screamed over the phone that it was a shame no one had informed Angel that people need nutrients and vitamins to live. She thought he was still in the mindset of a vampire, who could technically go months without food before going totally insane. Will had assured her that Angel would eat as soon as he woke up.

That was yesterday. He had slept all night and most of the day today. It was nearing evening and he was starting to calm down now. Buffy hadn't left his side except to use the bathroom and be dragged to the kitchen once by Willow. Xander had kept a steady stream of coffee coming up to Angel's bedroom, and Will had made sure everyone was situated in the guest rooms and their things had been retrieved from the hotel. Dawn had began digging through Angel's rather extensive library, pouring more effort into research for Angel's and Will's condition than Wes had been able to previously.

She looked at him. He had the flu. That was how she reasoned it in her mind. He was sick and she was going to look after him until he was better. Then they were going to have a very long discussion.

Buffy woke up in the chair that had been moved to his bedside. She stretched; her neck ached from the position she had slept in. The smell of food wafting through the house was tempting, and she wondered if she would have time to sneak away for long enough to grab something to bring upstairs with her. Looking at Angel's peaceful form, she decided she could risk it.

His fever had broken overnight. Since then, he had slept peacefully for the most part. She had even been able to sleep for a few hours. Once downstairs, she saw Dawn and Will, their heads bowed conspiratorially as Xander and Willow finished putting the food on the table.

Will had explained to them that he no longer went by the name Spike. That was the name of a murderer, a man with no regrets and little shame. He was a man who had died twice and been brought back both times. He had a chance to redeem himself, to help people. His soul was a part of him as Xander's was of him. It was no longer separate thing inside of him, something he kept locked away but which sometimes escaped. Will was not Spike. They could see that. Even his hair was different.

She walked over to the table to steal a few pieces of toast when the looks on the others' faces compelled her to turn around. Angel was standing at the top of the stairs, looking a little stunned. He was wearing lounge pants and robe and nothing else.

Angel almost turned right back around. The Scooby gang was in his kitchen. She was in his kitchen. And he was barefoot. That didn't seem right. Then she smiled. A full fledged smile he hadn't seen since the day that never was, a day no one else knew about. She hadn't smiled that way when he went to Sunnydale with that amulet. This was genuine and happy.

That smile made him walk downstairs. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. That, however, was better than he had felt in a long time.

"Good morning." She didn't know what to do with herself. She wanted to run to him and hug him and kiss him and do delectable things to him. But he looked a little apprehensive, and she knew she had to wait. She had to go slow, take her time. She couldn't scare him away now.

Willow motioned towards the table. "We made breakfast. Come on, you should eat."

He wanted to refuse food. It seemed like a foreign substance now. He opened his mouth to make a polite refusal but stopped as Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"You look gaunt. Your face has never been his thin. Sit down, and eat. Now." She grabbed the sleeve of his robe and pulled him towards the table.

He hadn't thought anyone was here. Well, maybe Will, since he smelled food, but he hadn't believed the others would stay. He was regretting his choice of attire, feeling self conscious over his lack of clothing, but Dawn was in shorts and t-shirt and Xander was only wearing track pants and Star Wars shirt. Angel began to feel a little better. Looking at Buffy though, made him frown. She hadn't showered in a couple days and her hair was hastily thrown in a ponytail. There were dark smudges under her eyes.

"You haven't slept in a while."

She stopped and looked at him as if he had just grown a new head. "You're really not one to talk about that right now. Pot, kettle, all that. Sit down."

He chose not to respond. Everyone sat, Will gave him a shrug, but seemed comfortable with the whole situation, he had been around these people for longer, and more recently, that Angel had.

He put his fork down after shoving the omelet around his plate a few times. Brutal honesty, he thought. It's really the only thing that works with this crowd.

"Isn't anyone else completely uncomfortable? Am I the only one who understands how surreal this situation is?" he looked from face to face, waiting for someone to assure him he wasn't totally insane.

Buffy nodded, swallowing. "It's weird. But…you were hurt. We were here. We helped you get better. And…I got your letters. Giles dropped them off yesterday. I'm sorry, Angel, for the whole thing. It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't your fault. It just…it was almost a tragedy. Only almost, though, because we're all here and we're all together."

It took him a moment to find words again. "Don't you all have lives? Somewhere you have to be? I mean…you can't just drop everything to come here and…"

"Yes we can." Dawn interrupted him with vigor. "The past few years have been a fiasco. A fiasco that could have been easily avoided. Let's make it right now. Let's stop holding grudges and stop being mad at each other for no reason and start being nice. Nice people help other people. You need help."

"I don't need help."

They stared at him, every jaw in the room but his on the table.

"You are kidding, right?" Xander was shaking his head. "You almost died. Died. Let me repeat that. You…almost…died. That sucks. You're way too skinny, I know you live in LA, but it's a little ridiculous. You either have shoe polish under your eyes or you haven't slept in a very long time. Or you're a zombie. Whatever, none of those things are healthy. Will said you're basically a walking suicide waiting to happen, and you turned anorexic. That goes back to the scary skinny thing. Wake up, dude. You need help. Oh, look," he made a dramatic show of looking around the room, "help's here!"

"You're an ass." It was the first thing that came to Angel's mind and it had slipped past his word filter faster than he could catch it. Will nearly fell off his chair and he was pretty sure Dawn had orange juice coming out of her nose. Even Xander was laughing. Angel was hard pressed to figure out what was so funny.

"Angel," Buffy out her hand over his arm, "Please don't kick us out. We want to help. I mean, you look bad. You need a few days off, with rest and food and sleep. Just a few days and you'll be okay. Maybe not the best you could be, but you'll be okay. And then…and then you can figure out where to go from there. Let's get to the point where you don't pass out, though, okay, because that was nerve racking."

He nodded mutely and picked up his fork. He could never kick her out. No matter what. He wanted her here. He ate in relative silence, listening to the others talk amongst themselves. Will was in his element, he had eaten breakfast with these people before. Even when Angel was in Sunnydale, he had never felt part of this group. Dawn had been very young, then, and she had treated him like a novelty. He was a novelty, he thought; something different than anything any of them had ever seen.

Giles had never liked him. Angel hadn't given him reason to, really. Angel had given him every reason not to trust him throughout the years. Torturing a man doesn't really inspire trust. He tried to figure out what angle Xander and Willow were using. They seemed sincere in their concern, that in and of itself made him nervous. Angel never liked it when he needed to ask for help, and he liked it less when people were willing to give that help. It made him feel inadequate. He paused in his thoughts, well aware that he had a few complexes that might require intensive therapy, but knowing full well he would never get that therapy.

Buffy was looking at him. He racked a corner of this brain that had been half listening to what they saying in order to come up with a response for whatever she had asked him.

"Uh…yeah, I like working there. It's…different than anything I'm used to, but I think I'm well suited for it. I get to boss a lot of people around, I inherited some great cars, and we're actually saving a lot of lives. It's working out so far."

She nodded, a little surprised at the vanity in his answer and not entirely believing those were the only reasons he worked at Wolfram and Hart. She could tell when her Angel wasn't telling her something. "But, why did you go to work there in the first place? I mean, was it a plan right from the beginning to kill them from the inside out, or did they blackmail you into it and then you thought of a plan?"

Looking a little startled, he tried to reply calmly. "Why would you think I was blackmailed into it?"

"It's just so against your nature. You like to do things in the shadows, behind the scenes; you've never been one for limelight. I mean, I'm sure it's a hard job, but there have to be perks. I mean, you must get more attention than you're used to getting and…I would think that would make you uncomfortable."

"It did at first. I've basically eliminated all areas of the company that made me uncomfortable, though. There used to be liaisons that basically followed me around, reporting my actions to the senior partners. I killed them and the partners, and I feel a lot better about working there, now."

She smiled. He was starting to inject that dry sense of humor he had into his words now. "I'm glad you were able to get you killing on in a good way. But…it just seems odd…going to work for the devil you fought so hard against."

He wanted her to stop asking questions, especially for right now. There were witnesses. "They made me an offer I couldn't refuse. It seemed like a good way to finally remove them from the picture. The senior partners, I mean. They…caused a lot of grief for me, for all of us, and this seemed…well it was the perfect way to hurt them. Work for them while at the same time destroying everything they had built. And I got to do it behind their backs. I beat them at their own game. That was exhilarating. I guess I needed the challenge."

Dawn was standing, gathering the dishes from the table. When Angel stood to help her, he was greeted with five angry voices telling him in various ways to sit back down. It wasn't worth fighting about, so he took a seat again.

Xander was looking at him intently. Angel had rarely seen such an intelligent and serious look from this man. Actually, he realized, he had never seen such a look from Xander.

"How did you take out so much of the demon population in the areas of all the Wolfram and Harts? There's a big chunk of the demon population gone, that's quite a feat. Especially for a guy that was supposedly really out of it for the past few years."

"I wasn't that out of it, Xander. I read every piece of paper that crossed my desk, I wrote a few briefs, and I personally killed a lot of evil executives. You all seem to think I was like a walking mindless automaton since I killed the senior partners. I was…a little depressed, but I had most of my wits with me."

Will was looking at him with a mixture of amusement and astonishment. "Most of your wits with you? Angel, some of the briefs you wrote were good, really good. You made good decisions. Corporate wise, you were never really off the mark. It was your personal life that went up shit creek without a paddle."

"What personal life?"

"That's my point. And you were a mindless automaton some days. You wouldn't even notice when someone was talking to you."

"I purposefully ignored you. That's not the same thing as not noticing. I just have an excellent ability to tune you out."

Angel hadn't meant to make a joke. Actually, he had delivered his statement in the dead pan way he said most things, but everyone else was snickering.

"Love you too, Peaches."

"Shut up, Will. I wasn't out of it the past few years. I was just…on a mental hiatus. But, look, I passed out for a few days, hallucinated a lot, and now I'm better. Ready to go back to the corporate chopping block and…"

"Hah! You're not going anywhere! You feel better because you ate and slept. You are taking a few days to get back on track, mister." The look in Buffy's eyes as she spoke made Angel keep quiet. He was smart enough to know what battles he could win and which ones he should just surrender too immediately.

"I'll go back on Wednesday. Good enough? That gives me the rest of the weekend plus a couple days."

"I think we can survive without you for that long. Given that you approved the statements I sent you last week."

"They're done. Edited, approved, sent to the publisher. You're good to go with those."

"Good. In that case, take all week off."

"I'm not dead."

"Thank goodness for that." Willow rose and stood next to Angel as she spoke. "It would have been awful if you had died. But, hey, since you're still with the living, why don't you show me around the house. I snooped a little already, but it would be nice to have an official tour."

Angel took her words for face value, but the look in her eyes didn't match the casual way she had spoken. He nodded, "I'll get dressed, meet you in the library in a few minutes."

"Good."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"What was it you really wanted to talk about?" He was showered and dressed in black slacks and light gray v-neck pullover. He looked ten times better than he had the first few moments she had laid eyes on him.

"Let's walk and talk. No need to be obvious that this was a decoy."

Nodding, he led through the majority of the house, which no one save his four closest friends had ever seen since he had bought the property.

"Buffy has faired a little better than you since…well, since things happened the way they did. Not much better, though. She hasn't had this light in her eyes in so long, it's good to see her this way. And you look…almost as handsome as you did back in Sunnydale. A few days of good living and you'll look better than ever.

You two are good for each other. You weren't, back then, but you are now. I did some checking, and Will did some explaining, and I found that your soul is no longer detachable. It's just like mine of Buffy's. That's great. That means no more Mr. Grrr when things get rough. Knowing that, I also know that you still have your strength, and Will said you've been training pretty hard.

So…don't get upset. I don't need you going postal. I wanted to tell you that Giles is responsible the lost in translation occurrence. He thought he was doing the right thing. Honestly he did."

They had stopped walking with this last bit. Angel stood there, staring at her with a blank look. That look quickly changed into a murderous rage. To his credit, though, he did little more than stand there clenching and unclenching his fists.

She continued the speech she had prepared a little in her mind before hand. "I'm mad too, and he was wrong in every possible way, but you know what they say about the road to hell. Angel, please understand that he thought he was protecting her. Until recently, he was under the impression you were evil and the rest of us thought you were dead, including Buffy."

He finally found the ability to speak calmly. "Why tell me all this?"

"Because you need a starting place. I have a feeling that Buffy isn't going back to Europe. She's scared you don't want her because I haven't told her any of this yet. She knows there are letters, but she doesn't know how Giles found them. She's been too worried about you to ask many questions yet. I thought it would be better if it came from you. Please know, Angel, she never stopped loving you. Not for a second. You two need…you need to start over. Get to know each other again and I didn't think it would be fair for you guys to start with a handicap. You needed to know why she never answered those letters. She really never got them."

She reached into the bag that had been hanging by her hip. He hadn't thought much of it before now. Pulling out a manila envelope, she reached inside and handed him a stack of about a dozen unopened envelopes. Handing to them to Angel, there was a look of apology, even grief.

"I didn't know if you would want me to give them to her. I thought you should have them back. I'm so sorry, Angel."

He wordlessly took the stack of letters he had so painstakingly written over the years. He remembered writing them, being so careful about what he said. He had thought over the wording of how to tell her Will was alive for days. He especially remembered the pain of receiving no reply and the horrible reasons he had created in his mind to why this would happen. He had never imagined that she wasn't even getting them. Andrew's words about her not trusting him anymore had haunted him every time he mailed one of those letters. Over time, he had convinced himself those words were true.

"Thank you, Willow." Not knowing what else to say or do, he turned on his heels and headed to his office on the other side of the house. He needed time to think. Did he want her to have these? They were proof he tried. She didn't need proof, though, she would believe him if he told her he had sent them. He didn't want her to see the pain, the pleading tone of these letters. He had to admit that they became more desperate with each unanswered letter.

Towards the end, they had taken on an angry quality that he was unable to completely hide. Eventually, the last one had been despondent, he had insulted her, stated he didn't want her to answer and maybe she would be better off without him anyway. He definitely didn't want her to read these now. If they wanted a clean start, this was not it. This would be an awful way to start a new relationship.

He moved by habit, not with any conscious thought of where he was going. He could have been blind; he still would have found his way to where he was going. That was why he didn't see her until it was too late. Buffy was standing right in front of him and he had no where to put his hand that was holding the stack of envelopes. They would never fit in his pocket. He just managed to put his hands behind his back in a way that wasn't too suspicious when she spoke with a rather accusing tone.

"What was that all about? Willow did not want a tour." Her arms were crossed and her stance meant that she was in no mood to be lied to. Her hair was cascading over her shoulders and hint of lip gloss on her lips made them shine a little. The gears of his mind suddenly stopped turning and then exploded. He couldn't answer her in any kind of intelligent way when the only thing his mind was doing was focusing on what he could do those lips.

He mentally slapped himself and tried not to undress her with her eyes. He wasn't sure he was succeeding in not doing that.

Something in her eyes conveyed that she knew just what he was thinking, and that her thoughts weren't that much different. There was a passion behind her eyes that bespoke entirely different things than her posture or tone of voice.

Just when the sexual tension was so thick Angel thought he would choke on it, she reached out and touched his cheek. She still kept her distance. She was exactly an arm's length away, and she wasn't coming any closer. Her hand stayed where it was and neither moved for a few moments that stretched into eternity.

He was the first to shake himself out of whatever spell had occupied them. "She…wanted to talk."

"I know that. If it was an innocent conversation, she wouldn't have used lies to get you alone. So, it wasn't innocent. The only thing you two could be talking about is me. So spill."

"Maybe we weren't talking about you. Geese, you have a high opinion of yourself. Maybe we were talking about business. Maybe she wanted to tell me about the spy she's had in my company for three years."

The look on Buffy's face told him she didn't believe a word he said. "You knew about that spy. You would know about things like that. No, if she wanted to talk about that, she would have said 'let's go talk business,' or something like that. Instead, she lied. For my benefit, I'm sure."

"Uhh…she…"

"Angel! I have been lied to enough! Tell me what's going on!" Before he could answer, she was pacing fiercely, her voice rising with every word she said. "Everyone has been trying to run my life. I am so tired of everyone knowing better than me about my life!"

She realized that perhaps Angel was not the one she should be yelling at. Taking a deep breath, she refocused, and started to speak quieter. "Sorry. I'm a little sensitive right now." The look on her face was still expectant, though, and he knew he would have to have this conversation with her sooner than later.

"Let's go into the office."

Once they were inside, he steadied himself. She was not going to be happy. Before he started, though, he would have to find a place for the letters. He tried to subtly drop them into a desk drawer, but she was staring at his every move. Sliding the drawer closed, he looked at her with a mixture of trepidation and yearning. He suddenly wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to run away with her.

"Buffy…you're…not going to be happy. Those letters I sent you? They weren't lost in the mail." He rethought the sarcasm route, and was about to start over when she interrupted him.

"Who got them? I already figured out that someone was intercepting those purposefully. I don't think it was Willow, though I'm pretty sure it was someone on the Council. They don't much like you."

In her heart, she knew who was responsible. If she didn't say it loud, though, it hadn't really happened and the betrayal that was lurking right around the corner wouldn't consume her. She wanted him to agree with her and leave it at that, but she wanted him to tell her everything and accept her anger as well. He made the decision for her.

"Giles. He got them." He wanted to wait to say anymore. Gauging her reaction first was probably the best thing, he thought.

Buffy walked to the bay windows that faced out towards to gardens. She didn't want to believe it, but she was also sure the bundle of papers she had seen had been those letters. Willow must have picked them up from where Buffy had placed them, she reasoned. Was no one ever going to let her run her own life?

"I figured that." Her voice was low, raspy, and there were tears behind it. She would not cry, though, she had cried enough lately. It was time to be strong. Angel needed her, they could start over again. They could forget any of this had ever happened.

Turning to face him again, she straightened her back and contained the hurt that was threatening to overwhelm her. "What now? I'll deal with Giles later, before he leaves for England. What about us, though?"

"What do you want from me? I mean, where do you want to go from here?" There was no accusation or defensiveness in his tone, only questioning. He truly wanted to hear what she had to say before he offered his own opinion. He had to hear her say it first.

She hesitated only a moment, trying to find the words that were best. "I want to get to know you. You've changed so much. I mean, you're still my Angel; you couldn't change that much. But I want to know you. I have so many questions for you."

Talking was the last thing on his mind, but her answer had warmed his spirits in a way they hadn't been in a very long time. "I haven't changed that much."

He hesitated and started walking the perimeter of the room slowly. There were glass cases here and there with old tomes and statues. The row of bookcases behind the desk were filled with dusty volumes; things to precious to be kept in the main library. Most of the furnishings were antique, dug out of storage lockers across the country when he bought the house. Angel had always traveled light, but rarely discarded possessions.

He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to do wonderful and delicious things to her and with her. There were things he wanted to tell her, and things he wanted to keep hidden from her forever. Shaking his head, he tried to reconcile the contradictions raging within him.

"Buffy, I want to be with you." He turned to face her, waiting for a response. Any response would be okay with him, he realized, he just needed her to say something.

"I want you too. I've never wanted anyone else." Standing stalk still, her mouth spoke the words her heart was screaming before her brain could venture a response. She wanted to run to him, but her legs were like lead, freezing her to where she stood.

His legs, however, were moving just fine. He was to her and had lifted her into his arms before she had a chance to react.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

He set her back down on the desk top, ravaging her mouth with his own. Her hands grabbed at his shirt, tearing it from collar to navel. A growl escaped his throat as her shirt landed on the ground. He was about to rip her pants from her body when he pulled away.

"No. Not like this. Wait, Buffy." He tried to push her hands from chest, but she was having none of it.

Ripping the shirt the rest of the way off, she made quick work of his undershirt. Her hands explored his muscular chest, the sinews of his back, his gently rippled abs. Her urgency spurred him on and he forgot any plans or fantasies he had ever had about their reunion.

He wanted her nude. He wanted her naked body in front of him, in the sunlight, every inch of her exposed to his gaze and his hands and his lips. Removing her bra, he pulled her to him, so they were skin to skin. He wanted every inch of her, no encumbrances. She was following his lead quickly.

They were both naked and on the floor before either one had much of a chance to explore the other. Their love making was rushed, urgent. They were desperate for the other, desperate for a life raft to grab on to and never let go of.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him into her. There was no waiting. She moved against him as he alternated between kissing her neck and gently suckling her breasts. Neither one of them could hold their release back for long.

He lay on top of her, grasping for breath and stroking her hair. Rising on his elbows he stared down into the face that had kept him sane while in hell and hoping since he had been human.

"You are so beautiful." He smiled a genuine smile and flipped them, so she was sitting on his lap. "That's a better view"

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. Putting her hands above her head dramatically, she shimmied a little bit, giving him a rather interesting version of a lap dance. Flipping her hair back, a devilish light came in to her eyes.

He knew that look. He had seen it on many women many times, most of whom he had ended up killing afterwards. This was the first time that look had made him feel happy instead of other unmentionable emotions.

His hands immediately started caressing her, taking his time exploring the top half of her body. Leaning her head back, she moaned softly as he lightly traced the curves of her body with his fingertips. As far as he was concerned, they had all the time in the world to get reacquainted with each other's body.

He lost track of time as he lifted her off of him and sat her on the edge of the ottoman along the far wall. Exploring her first with his hands, his lips flowed every inch of his hands' progress. She entwined her fingers in his hair, a low moan escaping her throat when he reached a particularly erogenous area.

The slow, sweat torture of her body continued for what seemed like eternity and yet only a moment all at the same time. Finally, when she thought she would pass out from either pleasure or agony, he stopped and lifted her into his arms. Seating himself on the ottoman, he wasted no time in pulling her to him. She screamed when he entered her, and the steady rhythm of his thumb in very sensitive areas brought her an explosive pleasure. He held her very still as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

He steadied himself, waiting for her to come down from her high. He was more than ready to reach his own peak, but he wanted to prolong the experience as long as possible. Standing, Buffy still impaled around his mid section, he walked to the desk and positioned her on the edge.

He drove into her with long hard thrusts, grinding his pelvic bone into the areas she needed it the most. Knowing he could help her reach a release once more, he coaxed her body with his hands and lips. She thrust towards him with greater and greater force as his thumb and forefinger tweaked her nipples in deliriously pleasing ways.

She bit into his shoulders, grabbing him hard around his chest when her body exploded with her third orgasm. He allowed himself release at that moment; their mutual bliss overcoming them.

Angel carefully set her down on the ground. Both their bodies were shaking; still reeling from the climax of their years of sexual tension.

"I don't think it was like that the first time."

He smiled at her, "I think I was gentler with you then."

Holding him tightly, she nuzzled her face into his chest. "That was better than anything I have ever had before, Angel."

He kissed her deeply, passionately, at that. His heart felt as though it was going to explode out of his chest, he was so happy. It wasn't the act of sex that made him blissful, it was the soaring highs of knowing he was with the woman he loved, giving her pleasure, and knowing that she loved him as well. The emotional thrill of holding her, being in love with her and expressing that love so fully, made his chest ache in a wonderful way.

They had to let each other go after a time. Dressing leisurely, they teased each other softly. He had her in a fit of giggles by the time they were both dressed.

Grabbing his hair, she pulled his face to hers for a long kiss. "Next time, I get to make you scream. I'm an equal opportunity love maker."

His smile lit up his whole face. She hadn't seen it in so long, her breath caught now that she was. Before she could recover, he pulled her into a fierce hug. "I missed you. And I look forward to you taking the lead. And I'm hungry."

It was her turn to laugh. She took the fact that he wanted to eat as a very good sign of his improving health.

"They're going to know what we were doing in here, you know." 

"I know. The whole of the hills probably heard you."

Playfully punching his arm, she reached for him and they started towards the door. For the first time in many years, Angel could finally admit to himself that he liked being happy. Yes, he thought, I could certainly get used to this.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Wesley sat next to Will on the couch. Angel was somewhere off with Willow, Buffy was stalking around the library, and the rest were off in the gardens, exploring the property.

Wes had been forced to rethink his idea of breaking into the house and taking a look at those files. With recent developments, there was no way he could get close to them. Rethinking his strategy to get a glance at that file had lead to one conclusion – he had to confront Angel. The former Watcher did not look forward to this. Angel was notorious for reacting badly when faced with a question he didn't want to answer.

Looking at his friend next to him, he wondered if Will knew anything about the file. Angel had been quicker to confide in his fellow hybrid. Wes wasn't sure why this was, but he had a few ideas. They related well to each other, even though no one on else could antagonize them better than each other. They shared a dark past; they had seen each other do horrible things and both had gained a soul and a conscious. Of course, their shared history with Buffy was something they had in common but never talked about. At least in front of others, they didn't.

Will was cocking his head, a look of shock on his face when Wesley looked back at him.

"What?"

"They're goin' at it like bunnies in there! They could at least go a bedroom…I think my ears are going to start bleeding."

Wesley was shocked. From what he had gathered, Angel and Buffy had been cool towards each other at best. He couldn't help but he happy, though. Angel needed this, he thought. Angel needed someone to love, completely and utterly. He wasn't very good at being alone.

Standing, he wondered if they would leave the office. If the couple went upstairs to continue their tryst, Wes would have an opening for at least a little while. No one could keep Angel's attention like Buffy. Maybe he didn't have to confront the man after all.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or am I going to find out later, when everyone else does?" Will's eyes were boring into Wes' own.

Wes remembered Will's transformation from Spike. It had gone about as well as Angel's transition to being human, or close to it, at least. A few days after they had gained the ability to breathe, Will had shaved his head and declared no one was to call him Spike anymore. Angel had commented to Wes that he was surprised the name change hadn't happened when Will had first gained a soul.

Because his soul was a vital part of him, not an interloper taking up space inside of him, Will had felt he was actually a person. That feeling had forced him to admit his guilt, the ravishing nightmares that plagued him, the faces of his victims he saw every day. Will had revealed to Wes that it was easier to ignore those things when he thought that having a soul was a thing he had done to impress a girl. Now, his soul was him, he was his soul. They could no more be separated than Wes could from him. Death was the only thing that could accomplish such a separation. Knowing this made Will rethink his life and its course.

The fact that Will knew he was mortal, was going to age and die like other men certainly had something to do with it as well. It was his last chance at life, and he was determined to make the most of it.

At least he isn't bald anymore, Wes conceded. He was still annoying and had a habit of unearthing things that he shouldn't, but that was precisely why Angel had made him Vice President of the company. It was difficult to lie to Will.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"See, that's how I know you're lying. You always go all proper English on people when you want to avoid things. Spill, now, or I'll find out on my own and neither one of us wants that, do we?"

Wes knew what that meant. That meant Will would go to Angel after he did a lot of digging. And when Will started digging, he always found something. "There is a file only Angel has access to…" Will didn't let him finish.

"The Connor file. I know." Seeing Wes's surprised look, he smiled. "What, did you think I was just another pretty face? I'm more than eye candy in that office, you know. I know about that file and I also wager I know a few things you don't. For instance, Lilah used that file to get Angel to work for Wolfram and Hart. That was the original reason he joined the company."

The shocked look on Wes' face told Will all he needed to know. Wes had no idea what was in that file, and Will wasn't sure he should be the one to tell him. But Will also knew how Wes operated; Wes had a plan to get that file. Wes always planned, he was more of a schemer and conniver than Will was, and spoke volumes in and of itself.

"It's a blackmail file. Full of nasty little secrets Angel would like to keep hidden forever. He's not going to let that file out of his sight anytime soon. Let it go, Wes." Even as he said it, Will knew his words meant next to nothing. Wes was almost as stubborn as Angel. Still, though, at least he knew he tried. And he hadn't even lied that much; Wes didn't need to know the file only held one secret.

"What kind of things could Angel what hidden that much? I know most everything he did as Angelus. What's worse than that?" Wes's curiosity was now more peaked than ever. Not only did he want to know what that file contained because he was sure it had something to do with Angel's depression, he wanted to know to satisfy an innate and burning need to know what could possibly be so bad that Angel would hide it from his best friends, his family.

Will immediately recognized his mistake. Wes looked like a panther stalking his prey, now. He was being subtle about it, but the predatory gleam in his eyes couldn't be entirely hidden. "You don't need to know. It's embarrassing and private."

Wes kept pushing and Will knew he was going to have to throw the man a bone, at least in order to satiate him for the time being. Will was now just biding his time, preventing the inevitable. Hopefully, he thought, he'd be able to talk to Angel about this before Wes could pull a Mission Impossible and swipe that file.

"Wes, you don't want to know, and I shouldn't be the one to tell you. That being said…it's stuff to do with Angelus. Stuff that never made it into the text books. Private stuff. There's things about his relationships with Darla, with me, things like that."

"You? What about you?" 

Wes didn't look even half way convinced. Will quickly thought of something that was horrible enough to put Wes off for a little while, and which was also basically true. "We got drunk together a lot. Drunken soulless straight males experiment. So…draw your own conclusions and never tell him I told you that."

Wes stood very still, hoping he had heard Will incorrectly. Deciding he had not, he turned and went towards the kitchen in hopes of finding beer in the fridge. Will smiled, knowing that Wes would be put off for a few days. The idea of he and Angel gay together would be enough to make Wes rethink his dedication to finding the information. And it amused Will in no small way to know what Wes was thinking and that Angel would be furious and highly embarrassed to know Will had let that bit of history be known. Will suppressed the urge to release an evil cackle.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

They sneaked through the back hallways of the house; halls that were built by someone for servants over a hundred years after that kind of architecture had been popular. Angel was glad for them, though, and it was one of the reasons he had bought the mansion. They looked rumpled, Buffy's hair was all over the place, and his undershirt was crooked, the remnants of his sweater in his hands. None of it mattered, though. All that mattered was getting upstairs without being seen. The thought of food had been forgotten after they had started kissing again. They had gotten about halfway undressed again before Angel had stopped Buffy's eager hands and motioned to go upstairs. He didn't want to deal with anyone right now save the woman who was unfortunately clothed and standing behind him.

"I need to shower. We should shower. Together." She emphasized the last word just in case he had missed her meaning.

"I'm not opposed to that." Turning his head just enough so that she saw the wicked grin on his face, he picked up his pace a little.

They reached the master bedroom without being seen and wasted no time in stripping again. They were in the bathroom and under the spray of hot water before Buffy realized they had moved. She smiled, letting herself explore his body. She was near tears, her happiness overwhelming her, but she was too turned on to cry. She would weep with joy later, she decided. Right now, it was all about making Angel scream her name.

She kissed every inch of his muscled chest, making her way down his torso. He gasped and had to brace himself against the walls as she took him into her mouth. She tortured him for many deliriously wonderful minutes before starting to make her way back up his torso.

He groaned deep in his throat. His heart was so full of love, of happiness, that he wondered if he could contain it. She really loved him. After everything he had done, all that had gone wrong, she loved him. He stopped thinking and started acted. Turning her around, he took from behind while the water cascaded on his back and over his shoulders, hitting Buffy's back. She panted as he manually helped bring her to climax again, his own release quickly coming upon him.

They held each other for a long time. She looked up at him, her dark hair wet and hanging crazily around her face. He laughed at the sight of her. Her eyes were the most serene he had ever seen them, but the rest of her looked like she had gone through a whirlwind.

Reaching for the shampoo, he gently worked it into her hair. Neither of them felt the need to speak. Their bodies were conveying more than their words ever could. He massaged her scalp, watching as her mouth fell open and her head fell back.

He pampered her body, thinking he could never grow tired of this. She finally stopped him and returned the favor before they ran out of hot water. It was the longest shower either one of them had ever taken.

Angel didn't know if he wanted food or sleep, the last few hours had drained him and he was still not one hundred percent recovered. As content as he was, he had to admit that he was lightheaded and his stomach was doing some flip-flopping. He barely registered Buffy speaking to him as he climbed into bed. His hair was wet, and the rest of him wasn't much drier, but he was asleep nearly immediately after he closed his eyes.

Buffy laughed. Well, she thought, now I know it was good. She was worried though. The last time she had ever seen Angel sick, the only time, was when he had been poisoned. She had almost died saving him then. A sad grin came to her lips but quickly transformed into a full fledged smile. This kind of healing was a lot more fun than being drained of blood. Yes, she thought, if this is what I have to do to be his personal nurse, sign me up now.

She watched the rise and fall of his back for a few minutes. He was lying on his stomach, exposing the entirety of the back of him to her gaze. She took that view in for a long time. His legs and backside were so well crafted, she thought. Will had told her that he trained everyday, no matter what, usually in the early mornings. It showed. Even super human people didn't naturally look as good as he did at that moment.

She wanted to sleep a little, curl up next to him, but she felt bad that she had distracted him from his original mission of food. The least she could do was have something waiting for him when he woke up. Making her way to the kitchen, she saw Wes digging through the fridge, muttering about sobriety and beer. Will was sitting on the couch with a look that told her he was up to no good.

Buffy wasn't sure what to do about Will. She had to correct herself every time she thought of or spoke to him. She didn't know if she would ever get used to him not being Spike. He was very much changed. Will was mature, articulate, and seemingly selfless. A lot of qualities that may have been present back in Sunnydale, but had certainly been muted.

She knew that Angel knew of her previous relationship with Will, but she doubted they would have talked about it in great detail. Yet, it didn't seem to affect what was obviously a deep friendship between them. That was what was most surprising to her. She had always thought of two men as hating each other. This was a far cry from what she had seen previously of their interaction. They actually seemed very devoted to each other.

Approaching Will, she smiled cautiously. "Can we talk? I want to make Angel something to eat, but can I talk to you while I do that?"

"Of course." He immediately stood, going into the kitchen with Buffy. Dorita would be in tomorrow, he knew, and would be thrilled to see that the fridge was not as full as she had left it. Actually, she would probably have to go to the store tomorrow instead of in the middle of the week, as was her habit.

To Buffy's surprise, Wes sat at the table, clearly not ready to move, and Will started helping her cook. She realized that she had no idea what Angel liked to eat, or how he liked his food prepared. Will was infinitely more knowledgeable about that.

Will had an inkling of what Buffy wanted to talk about, and had given Wesley a very subtle hand motion that meant to stay put. He wasn't yet ready to talk to her about what he thought she wanted to talk about.

"He likes his meat well done, which makes sense. Vegetables crisp, spicy is good, sweet and sour isn't his favorite, ice cream is a food group for him, and pasta is a major staple. Any kind of sauce will do. He's spoiled, really, we eat out a lot, and not at Burger King, if you know what I mean. Really, though, he'll like anything you make him, because it's you making it."

She took all of that in, trying to remember it all and realizing that her tastes were very similar to Angel's, other than the sweet and sour thing, but she figured she could live with that. The two started preparing a roast to go into the oven. Will seemed to know what he was doing, and relegated Buffy to chopping and following directions. She had never been the best cook, anyway, so his direction was greatly appreciated.

Clearing her throat, she decided it was time to talk to him just at the time when the roast went into the oven. "Will, umm…are things okay between us?"

He stopped what he was doing and considered the question. He didn't think this was where the conversation was heading. "Buffy, I didn't think we were ever not okay. I mean, I know I wasn't very friendly when I first saw you, and I'm sorry about that, I was under…well, anyway, it doesn't matter any more. I hope we can be friends. I mean, I care about you a lot."

"That's why I ask. It doesn't seem to affect you and Angel, our past, I mean. I wanted to know if things were going to okay between you two now that I'm here. It won't be awkward, will it?"

He laughed. This was what was worrying her? "My relationship with Angel," he paused just long enough to glance Wes, he wanted to make sure his choice of phrasing hadn't been missed, "is strong enough to withstand most things the universe could throw at us. I always knew I was a place holder for him." Seeing her about to refute his statement, he held his hands up in a motion to stop her and continued.

"It's okay, Buffy. No hard feelings. We needed what we needed at the time and it worked out well in the end even if I couldn't appreciate that back then. You always loved him, I never denied that. He's my friend, a great friend, and I…well, I love both of you and I want to see you happy. You and I could never work out because you're not in love with me. Be with the man you love and don't worry about the rest."

She was stunned. He had always been sensitive, honest to a fault, but se hadn't expected all that. "Will, I…thank you. And I do love you. I just…don't love you like I love him. If that makes any sense."

"We're okay, you and Angel are okay, everyone is okay. Life is looking up. Stop worrying about me; I'm as resourceful as a cockroach. Worry about the man who needs it most. He's got a long road ahead of him, even now."

Buffy thanked him and excused herself, saying she had left something in Angel's office. From the look on Wes's and Will's face, they were probably thinking it was her underwear.

She walked back towards the office, thinking it strange that she hadn't seen Willow, Dawn or Xander since breakfast. So much had happened since then, she thought. And she hadn't seen Giles in a couple days. She wasn't sure she wanted to see him. Buffy didn't want her suspicions confirmed, it hurt too much. Ignorance was bliss, she decided.

Sitting in his chair, she opened the drawer she had saw him dump the letters in and pulled them out. Taking a steadying breath, she found the one with the oldest post date and opened it. She wanted to know just what she had missed.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Angel woke peacefully for the first time in a long time. Stretching, a lazy smile curved his lips. He could smell food from downstairs, and for the first time in a long time he actually wanted to eat whatever it was. Turing on his side, he frowned a little to find Buffy was not next to him. Dressing quickly, he made his way downstairs with a bounce in his step.

Will greeted him with a devilish smile. "Hey sleeping beauty."

"No comments from the peanut gallery, please."

"I'm just happy you're finally getting some. Hey, we made dinner. Fred and Gunn are on their way over. Xander and Willow took Dawn into the city for a while, something about Christmas presents. They'll be back soon. We'll eat in an hour."

Wes was smiling at him, but the smile looked a little uncomfortable. Angel realized the only member of wither group Will hadn't mentioned was Giles. It was probably a good thing he wasn't coming. Angel didn't know if he could handle it. Just at that moment, the older English man stepped through the sliding doors into the living room from the patio.

Angel's breath caught. His first instinct was to hit him until he looked like raw meat, but Buffy was somewhere in the house and she didn't know of Giles' involvement. The thought of her feelings being hurt stayed Angel's hand.

Turning with an angry glare at Wes, his words were dripping with venom when he spoke. "What's he doing here?"

"I'm here to…"

"I didn't ask you." Angel spoke with a fierce anger but he kept his voice down.

"Angel, wait, don't be too mad. He showed up about an hour ago and we got to talking. Just listen to what the man has to say." Wesley's calm demeanor soothed Angel's ruffled feathers just enough for him to look at Giles and be quiet.

Taking that as his cue, Giles started in a low and slow manner, taking his time and choosing his wording very carefully. "I came to apologize. My actions were inexcusable, unforgivable. I am aware of that, and yet I am going to ask your forgiveness. I was trying to act in Buffy's best interest. My…overlooking the fact that she is no longer a fifteen year old was…stupid. I'm sorry, Angel."

Angel didn't contain his anger very well. "You almost ruined my life! Buffy's life! The time we've lost, the time we could have been together, we'll never get that back! I don't have forever, anymore, Giles! I want to make the most of what time I have on this Earth, and you almost stole the woman I love away from me! Do you think an 'I'm sorry' can ever make up for that?"

Seeing the larger man's heaving shoulders, and hearing his voice laden heavily with emotion made Giles swallow the lump he felt forming in his throat. He took a minute to compose his words before he spoke again. "I acted out of love. I had no intention of things turning out this way. I meant no ill will, Angel."

He heard the truth of Giles' words, knew he spoke them from his heart, but Angel wasn't yet ready to kiss and make up. He needed time to sort through his own feelings before he could respond to Giles.

"Where's Buffy. I can't talk about this anymore."

"She went to your office a little before Giles arrived. I thought it would be best not to make her aware of his presence until you had talked to him. She's till back there, I think."

The color drained from Angel's face. He knew exactly what she had been doing the past hour. The little sneak, she never left anything alone, did she, he thought. Turning quickly, he had to fight to keep his legs from running.

Throwing the door open, he stopped short of the threshold. She was sitting in his chair, tears running in rivers down her face. She was on the last letter. A box of tissues had been emptied, the remnants strewn in and around the garbage can. He could see that some of his words were smeared from her tears.

Staying quiet, he moved into the room and closed the door. He had no illusions that she hadn't heard him, but he would wait for her to acknowledge him before he spoke. Thinking of refutes, of apologies, he tried to recall every word he had ever written to her. Would she be mad? Would she forgive him for accusing her of neglecting him, of acting immaturely, callously? He had said hurtful things because he was hurt. Would she understand that, he wondered.

When she finished, she set the letter down, touching it as if it were precious parchment that could turn to dust with careless handling. Her eyes burned. Two lines into the first letter, the hope and love she had felt in his words had caused her tears. Tears for what could have been, absolutely, but mostly tears because she knew what that hope would later turn into. She already knew the ending of this book.

The rest of the letters had caused her to sob, some had caused her to laugh in certain places, but mostly, she had wept. It wasn't until the seventh letter that he had become defensive. He had tried to defend his decision to join the ranks of Wolfram and Hart. He defended Will, he defended Wesley. Somewhere in the tenth letter he had started to attack her and her friends. By the twelfth and final letter, he had been despondent, even accepting of the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him.

The transition from innocent and wide eyed hope, his idea of what their future could hold, to the acceptance of her hatred for him caused her to flinch internally. The torture he had undergone…it was unfathomable. He had truly convinced himself that she had rejected him, lost trust and faith him.

Making eye contact with him was difficult. He saw her struggle and immediately felt his heart ache. She wouldn't forgive him. She could never overlook the horrible things he had assumed, the accusations he had made. She was finally going to see through him. She would see him for the man he really was, a sham, a good for nothing. Inside, he known it all along, but he didn't think he could bear to hear it from her.

Before she could speak, he was out the door and running through the back halls to the servants exit. He was running at break neck speed, he had run five mornings a week for three years. She would never catch him. He chose the fastest car he had and peeled out of the garage once the door had raised enough for the car to squeeze through. He was around the corner before Buffy made it the garage, her shorter legs carrying her as fast as they could go.

She was shocked. She knew what had caused him to run. He still believed in what he had written in that last letter. He believed that deep down she could never love him. Actually, she reflected, he believed that no one could ever love him; he thought was despicable, unlovable in the most awful ways. Cursing at the top of her lungs, she ran into the house through the front doors. Giles, Wesley and Will were sitting in the living room.

She didn't notice the moisture in Giles's eyes or the comforting hand Will had on her former mentor's shoulders. Buffy saw nothing but a blinding red hatred. She was on top of Giles, her fists moving back and forth before anyone could grab her. Even with his strength, Will had trouble restraining her. Wesley picked Giles up off the floor by the back of his collar and basically threw him across the room, increasing the distance between him and the incredibly furious slayer.

"Buffy, stop! Please, Buffy, listen to us!" Will was trying with all his might to contain her fury, but she threw him over her shoulder, sending him crashing hard to the floor in front of her. The air rushed from his lungs as he watched Buffy leap over his prone form. Wesley intercepted her before she could reach Giles.

"Buffy!" Before he could continue, Buffy flattened him to the ground with a hard hit to his abdomen.

"Don't ever tell me to listen to you! I'm tired of listening to everyone else about my life! Giles, how could you?" She was sobbing, huge racking sobs shaking her entire body. Her fists were still clenched, her body coiled with tension, ready to strike at anything around her.

"I'm so sorry, Buffy." His voice was a whisper, filled with aguish. Tears were now freely flowing down his face. He had no shame to feel anymore, he had used it all already.

She saw his pain, recognized the truth in his words. Still, she couldn't keep herself from hating him in that instant. The emotional drain she had experienced from reading Angel's letters and his subsequent hasty exit finally took their toll and she collapsed heavily on the couch.

Sobbing into her hands, she wasn't sure what to do with her anger. She wanted to scream, to run until her legs couldn't carry her anymore, to kick a whole through every wall in the house. She did none of these things. Her body refused to move, and she sat there, weeping for her own pain and for that of the man she loved.

Strong arms wrapped tentatively around her. They grew surer and soon were holding her in a tight embrace. She felt the steady shaking of the man holding her. She wanted to push Giles away, tell him to go to hell, curse until she had no breath, but instead she let him hold her, and turned to sob into his chest.

He whispered apologies in her ear. He tried to explain himself but found he didn't have enough words. They sat there for a long time, trying to expend their sorrow. It would take much longer for either one to do that.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Angel drove at almost twice the speed limit. He had to get away from her, from whatever heartbreaking words she was about to say. He realized with pain that he had no where to go. He had a key to Will's place, and there was still the apartment in the Wolfram and Hart building that he used to live in, but he would be found very quickly if he went to either of those places. He wanted to disappear for a while.

Pulling into the parking deck of the law firm, he exchanged the car he was driving for a nondescript black Honda Civic. He had a few cars that he used if he wanted to remain anonymous. Jaguars and BMWs were noticed easily when he went slumming.

That's what Will called it. Not that Will had any room to comment on where Angel went to drink. A lot of the bars Angel liked to frequent were also places that Will played at. It was a well kept secret that Vice President of Wolfram and Hart preformed music, both original and covered, with his old acoustic at bars in LA. Angel always thought Will did great Nirvana covers.

The Blue Turtle was one of Angel's favorite bars, and where he came to drink when he wanted to so alone. Not even Will knew about this place. It was dark, quiet, no one bothered him, and the bartender kept a few bottles of grade A Irish whiskey around. Taking a seat at a small table in the back, the waitress came up with a knowing smile. She had waited on Angel many times.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

"Been busy. The Usual."

She nodded. He never was one much for conversation. She brought a four finger glass of whiskey to him, leaving the bottle on the table. One bottle was over a hundred dollars, and he could go through two or three a week when he wanted to. He stopped her before she could leave.

"Bring me a pack of Lucky Strikes, would you?"

She nodded again and left to get his cigarettes. He had smoked off and on since the 1920s, and Luck Strike had been the first brand he tried. There had only been about three brands of cigarettes back then, he thought. How things had changed.

He settled in his seat, ready to get good and truly drunk. He been operating with an almost permanent buzz for nearly a year, and had been drunk on a good many occasions. Tonight, however, he would consider it a failure if he could stand or see. He wanted to crawl inside a bottle and stay there for the foreseeable future.

Lighting a cigarette with the lighter she had left on the table next to the pack, he started into the bottle of Jameson's with enthusiasm. He planned to crawl out of the bar later that night.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

When Fred and Gunn arrived, they were a little taken aback at the site of a slayer who had obviously been crying a great deal. Giles was sitting on the couch as far away from Buffy as he could get, his arms crossed across his chest. He didn't look too much better than Buffy. Will was trying to get him to put an icepack on his cheek, which looked rather purplish.

Wesley was in the kitchen, taking the roast from the oven. The formal dining room was set for ten, but it didn't look like dinner was going to happen anytime soon. The mood of the room was somber at best. Buffy looked catatonic and Giles looked ready to fall on a stake.

Fred was the first to speak. "So…you guys had a great night. Where's Angel, or do I not want to know?" She crossed her arms. The movement pulled her shirt up a little, revealing the slightest bulging of her abdomen beneath her jacket. She was already starting to show. She and Wesley had celebrated her making to the fourth month a few days previous.

Gunn sighed, knowing the answer to Fred's question was not going to be a good one. He was relieved when it was Wes that answered. He was leaning on the partition that separated the big open kitchen from the family room. He didn't look happy.

"Letters. Buffy and Angel found out why she didn't receive any he sent. Chaos ensued." He spoke with such dryness, it was hard to tell if he was annoyed or not at the situation.

Will was defiantly annoyed. "Jeeves here is a fuck up. After he told us that, we forgave him. Angel almost forgave him. Buffy kicked the crap out of him. Angel ran out of here like he was being chased by Bachala demons."

Gunn almost appreciated the Bachala, or soul-eater, demon joke. Almost. Mostly he was just pissed off. He couldn't think of a more articulate term at the moment than that. He was angry that Angel couldn't get a little peace, he was mad that the entrance of the Slayer and crew into their lives had been more of an upset than it had been a help. Gunn knew it was ridiculous, but he blamed Buffy for Angel's collapse, though that had been a long time coming. He blamed Giles for Angel's depression, which was warranted, but mostly he blamed himself for not helping his friend sooner.

Gunn had always thought of Angel as the strong one, the one that did whatever he had to do to get things done. The man that could meet any challenge, no matter how difficult. It wasn't until recently that Gunn had discovered that Angel wasn't Superman. He was just Angel. He was a guy that needed his friends, a guy that needed this tiny little brunette woman and most of all, a guy that needed to take a break from being everybody's hero.

Gunn turned as the door to the foyer opened. Willow, Dawn and Xander had arrived. Dawn dropped everything in her hands when she saw the state of everyone in the living room. This was not how their night was supposed to be, she thought. This was supposed to be a wonderful night. They were all going to have dinner together. She had wanted to get to know Fred better; she wanted to pump Wes for information on books he had. She wanted to catch up with Angel, hear about the man he had become. Instead, it looked like they were all going to fight.

Indeed, Dawn was right. Fred threw the first verbal punch. Her unfaltering attack of Giles had Willow up in arms. The red head witch was furious with Giles, but she wouldn't stand for anyone to attack him the way Fred was. Willow's yelling made Gunn get involved in defending Angel, which prompted Xander to start screaming in turn about some very unsavory events that had happened in Sunnydale.

Dawn stood next to Will and Wes, who had decided to be still. Buffy felt her sisters' hand on her shoulder, a comforting presence in a sea of uncertainty. Angel's cell phone was off, and no one had an idea of where he was. The night guard at the company reported Angel wasn't there, and Will's neighbor said he hadn't gone to his friend's apartment either. Which meant he was probably in a bar working on getting himself entirely under the table.

Giles said nothing in his defense. He knew his actions were indefensible. Instead, he tried to get Willow to stop yelling at Fred. When this didn't work, he settled back in the couch, a miserable look on his face. The road to hell, he thought.

Wesley attempted to calm his wife once or twice, but was met with a glare that could make men burst into flames where they stood. Sometimes he wondered about who he was looking at, Fred or Illyria. If he had to make a choice in that moment, he would have said he was talking to Illyria. She had Fred's ferocious loyalty to Angel, but Illyria's icy accusing tone to her voice. If he could have taped the fight and studied it later he would have. That would lead to certain death, though, he was sure.

Will calmly walked into the kitchen and got two pots from a cabinet. He took his time walking back into the room, then proceeded to bang the pots together with strength that made everyone cover their ears. When he was sure they weren't going to be yelling again for the next few minutes, he ceased his banging. The pots would never be the same.

"Well, this is amusing, but I have to tell you all, also pointless. Angel is in a bar somewhere getting completely tossed and we're sitting here screaming at each other. And the people that should be screaming aren't. If Buffy and Giles can behave civilly, you lot should be able to as well. Now shut the hell up, all of you.

Giles screwed up. Big time. However, Buffy and Angel are reunited and will soon be shacking up and starting to breed their own little league team. So, that's not an issue. If we had a time machine, I'm not sure Giles could beat any one of us to it. Right? He's not the first one in this room to be a total ass. Not pointing fingers or passing judgment, just wanted to remind everybody. Let's focus on the here and now, not what idiots we all were back in Sunnydale. None of us who were there can say they didn't screw up back then. Time to move on, kids."

Buffy's voice was raspy and quiet when she spoke. "I want to find Angel. I want everyone to stop yelling. I want to have a nice Christmas. In that order."

"Willow, try a locator spell. He's probably cloaking himself, but it's worth a shot. Gunn and Will, get out there and look for him. Will, you know where he likes to go. Dawn, Buffy, get some air away from everybody. Xander, help me make sandwiches. We can salvage dinner and we still all need to eat." Wesley finished dishing out orders and made his way into the kitchen.

Xander followed grudgingly. He didn't take orders and he didn't make sandwiches. Stopping himself, he shook his head at those thoughts. Good of the team, he reminded himself. And if Wes can make sandwiches, so can I. Be helpful.

Dawn and Buffy went to the patio. Fred followed. Buffy wasn't sure why she listened to Wes, but she couldn't think of anything batter to do anyway. Looking at Fred, she knew the woman was not going to apologize. Everything Fred had said was true. It wasn't nice, but it was true.

"We'll find him, Buffy. He might need his stomach pumped from I what I hear, but we'll find him. What made him run out, anyway?"

"I think he thought I was mad at him. I read the letters he sent me. I guess he thought…he thought I would be offended."

Fred took a deep breath and absently put her hands on her stomach. "He's sensitive about those. Regretted them. Not writing to you, but what he said in them sometimes. After the last one, he was sure you would never forgive him. He never said what was in that letter, but he said it was bad."

Buffy let out a combination of a snort and a laugh. "Yeah, it wasn't very nice. But…I mean, I understand that. He thought I was ignoring him for three years. Or Two plus years, at the time he wrote that. I wouldn't have been very nice either." She looked at Fred, who was contemplating one of the hanging plants. "How far along are you?"

She turned quickly, a violent angle to her body. "What?"

"Uhh…sorry. I didn't know that topic was off limits."

Dawn's eyes widened and looked a little closer at Fred. Definite baby bump, she thought. Buffy was still observant, even half crazed with grief. Dawn was a little impressed with her big sister.

"It's not off limits. I just haven't told anyone yet. Well, Wes and I haven't told anyone. It's our third try." The look in Fred's eyes was pained even if the set of her jaw was harsh.

"I'm sorry." Buffy was truly sorry for the woman. She felt an awful pang of guilt as a fleeting thought went through her head. At least someone else's life isn't easy. She regretted the thought as soon as it had flitted through her mind. She hated feeling better about her life because someone else was in pain. It was a disconcerting comfort.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Spike burst into the office. His head was shaved and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Or an army of ghosts.

"What can I do for you Spike?"

"That isn't my name anymore." The younger ex-vampire was pacing back in forth in front of Angel's desk. Angel could hear the construction outside the office door; the crews were trying to fix the devastation that had been wrought on the building.

"What should I call you?" Angel leaned back in his chair, ready to talk the no longer bleach blonde off of any ledge he had managed to climb up to this time.

"I don't know. I know I'm not Spike, though. He killed people, he…" He ran his hands over his smooth head. Earlier in the day, he had shaved the hair that made him so recognizable and then proceeded to smash every mirror in the apartment Angel had helped him sublet. His knuckles had already started to heal.

Angel knew what was bothering the man. He was going through the same thing Angel had gone through after getting his soul. Angel had had time to deal with that, and to deal with the thought of being human. He even had a day when he was human as reference. Spike had no experience in any of this. The years with his soul had been spent convincing himself he didn't want it. The younger man was now to a point that knew he was stuck with it and had no idea what that meant.

"What about William? Your given name?"

"He was a ponce. And I don't want to be called Billy or Bill or any o' that nonsense."

"Will, then. What about Will?"

"Will? That's not bad. I mean, I can't think of any other human name I really like. But, Angel…I'm human. Almost. What do I do with this?" The look of desperation in Will's eyes made Angel's heart wrench. And he barely liked the man.

"I'm ordering papers. Social Security cards, birth certificates, passports, drivers licenses, everything, for both of us. We'll have lives and histories that have nothing to do with reality but which will serve us better than reality. You'll be an immigrant from England. I moved here from Ireland when I was a kid. Our parents are deceased. No living family. I've got us covered."

"I'm grateful. I am…but I meant what I do with these nightmares, with the faces I see, with….with the guilt. How do you do it? How you live with this? I mean, it hurt before, but now…it doesn't compare to the pain of before. I thought I had this handled already."

"It's permanent now. It's not something you sought out or bought, it's something you earned. You can't get rid of it now, it's you. There is no Spike anymore. He can never come back. No one can take this away from you, turn you into a monster again. It's a big realization. And you didn't deal with it before, you joked about it. Now you have to look at yourself every day and really deal with it."

He sat down hard. "I need a job."

"Covered that too. You start now. Your office is down the hall, I'll have your name put on it by the end of the day. Go through the paperwork on your desk; let me know what you think. Two clients are coming in later; I'll send them to you. Make sure they stay with the company. And change your clothes; you looked like a grunge rocker."

"Thought of everything, huh?"

"Tried to."

He was standing in Will's old apartment, the one he had before Angel had forced him to move into a better area. He was picking away at old guitar while Angel opened two more beers in the kitchen. They were both a little drunk. Will had been playing his own originals, music that no ear other than Wills', and possibly the prying neighbor down the hall, had ever heard. Angel liked it.

"Anyway, that's as far as I got so far. It's not great, but I guess it's not to shabby."

"I like it. I like it a lot."

Will was stunned. Angel had always told him how crappy his writing was. Except for that one moment of truthfulness last year right before Will's Barry Manilow comment, he thought. Angelus had complained to no end about his incessant writings. "You like it? You hate my writing. And my singing. You hate everything I do like that."

"No I don't. I like your poetry, I like your music. I never said I didn't." Sitting on the couch, he plucked a couple of the strings of Will's spare guitar leaning nest to him.

"Angelus always…"

"I'm not Angelus. He was an asshole. I like your stuff."

"Oh…that changes…well, that changes my whole life. Not that I need your approval, mind you. I don't give a bollocks about you think, in fact. I'm just surprised."

He nodded. He really did think Will was a good writer, he always had been. And he played a mean guitar rift. Will never had anyone honestly like his work, but he hadn't shared it with many people either.

"You should play at bars. People would like it. You can sing Cobain like no one else. Really, you'd like it."

He seemed to consider it, but decided against venturing any further into those waters. "Teach me to act like a businessman and I'll think about it. This whole working thing is all new to me. I can't pilfer things from the street anymore."

"Teach me to play the guitar."

"Deal."

Angel's vision cleared as he blinked a few times. Drunken flashbacks were his least favorite part of drinking. His head was leaning against the wall behind him. He was completely immersed in a fog of booze now. Half the bottle was gone and it hadn't taken him very long. A band was playing on the stage and they weren't half bad. He had turned away three women already, and he was sure more would try to seduce him before he called a taxi to leave.

Rubbing a hand through his hair, he realized that he could still see and could probably walk too. That wasn't good. He wanted to kill brain cells. Lots of them. He was hoping that his memory cells would be the first to go. He figured he could do without most of those.

Visions of Buffy danced through his head. He saw her as she was during the day that didn't exist. He saw her today, on top of him shimmying to make him laugh. She was in high school, wearing short dresses and ridiculous shoes. She was in a white dress, being revived by Xander on prom night.

Lighting another cigarette, he made sure his glass was full. He wasn't so drunk to start chugging from the bottle yet.

He remembered Spike when he was William, a devastatingly shy poet with corkscrew curls who smelled of his sniffing salts. He cringed with the memories of what he had turned that man into. He had created a monster in his own image, and just as Spike was coming into his own as a master of cruelty and torture, a soul was thrust upon Angel by gypsies.

Spike had been such a pain in the ass. As Angelus, he had regretted the creation of his grand-spawn more than once. Now, though, that pain in the ass was his best friend. After he had slowly starting pushing Wesley away, he had gravitated towards Will. His honestly, carefully hidden intelligence, and willingness to listen had endeared Angel to him quickly.

Wesley. That was a puzzle, wasn't he, he asked himself. The man that had thought he was going to kill Connor. The man who had basically given Connor to Holtz and had his neck slit in the process. Angel found himself looking for the scar that wasn't there sometimes. Angel didn't know if he would ever forgive Wes for taking Connor from him. For not talking to him, explaining the situation, asking for help. Wesley was too proud to admit he was scared and needed another set of eyes. In those days, Angel would called Giles for help.

Connor, his son. His beautiful, brilliant, son. He was so proud of Connor. His son had his artistic talents; even if he used them to clean paintings instead of create them. Just as well, Angel thought, he didn't care what his son did as long as he was happy. And he was happy. He had no memory of his part in the fight with Wolfram and Hart. As far as Connor knew, he was an exceptionally healthy young man with a predilection for athleticism.

Angel almost cried into his drink thinking about Connor. Instead, he drank more. He was going to finish the bottle, he decided. And then he was going to order another. He crushed the last of his cigarette. He was through half the pack. He'd be done with it by the end of the night. The bar closed at five in the morning. Angel figured it was close to midnight now. He'd been drinking since nine. He had a long way to go, yet.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The sun was coming up. They had checked most of the watering holes Will knew about, but Angel hadn't been in any of them. Buffy hadn't slept all night. Wes and Fred had gone home, as had Gunn. Will had stayed at Angels'. It would have too weird for the slayer crew to stay there without some member of the LA gang there as well. They already felt a little like interlopers.

The five previous Sunnydale residents all felt a little guilty. They had been at Angel's house for three nights now and there didn't seem to be an end in sight. Will assured them it was no trouble, but none of them were really convinced. Willow had tried to offer to buy groceries but Will had laughed, saying Angel had nothing to spend his money on but booze anyway, and that it wasn't at all a burden.

Giles had mentioned that he was returning to England soon. The first flight he could get, he said. The holidays were going to slow him down, but even so he would probably be gone by the end of the week. Willow had to get back as well but she didn't particularly want to go until after Christmas. Dawn had no where to be for the next two weeks, until the semester started again, and Xander had no where to be period. He had no ties in Africa. He had designed it that way, so he could leave whenever he needed to.

Xander felt more lost than he had in a long time. He loved Buffy. He had come to empathize with Angel and knew he had the potential to like the man. He was mad at Giles, but the novelty of that feeling had passed shortly after they had arrived in LA. Xander didn't agree with Giles, but wasn't sure he would have done anything differently if he had been in the other mans' shoes.

Xander felt bad for all parties involved. He would have chosen a side if there were sides to take, but everyone just seemed to want Buffy and Angel to get together and be happy. That sounded good to Xander. Buffy happy was a lot better than Buffy sad. Buffy had two modes when she was sad: suicidal and homicidal. There wasn't a lot of in between with her, he thought.

Angel was having a very hard of it, Xander knew. The poor guy had been stomped on and beat up, chewed on and spit out and he was still standing. He was wobbling a little, but on his feet none the less. The fact that Angel hadn't come back last night made Xander a little nervous. He was surprised to realize that he was nervous not only for Buffy, but for Angel. The guy was actually kind of lovable.

The night had been spent sitting in the living room, Will telling stories of the past four years, since he had come back from the dead the first time. He had all of them in stitches telling them about the time Angel had been turned into a puppet. There hadn't been a dry eye in the room when he told them about Cordy's goodbye to Angel and the vision she had given him.

Xander had been on the edge of his seat, along with everyone else, during the story of the final battle with Wolfram and Hart. Will had told them everything Angel had told him of this time in the hell dimension killing the senior partners. Will was a great story teller. Xander had been a little surprised at some of the stories. Will's first Halloween at Wolfram and Hart had him howling with laughter and cringing at the same time.

Will's tales made Xander feel for the LA group. Especially Fred's story. Will told that one with a little apprehension. It certainly explained a lot, though, especially for Willow, who had known Fred before her blue phase.

The LA gang had been through quite a lot in the past few years. Not that Xander felt his friends' lives had been easy. The slayer school, with its 500 members, the Buffy decoys in Rome and Barcelona, the training in Africa, all of it had been difficult. But that seemed manageable compared to the loads of manure the LA gang had waded through.

At the current moment, Xander was lying in a bed in one of the two guest houses behind the main house. He had slept a little. Around four in the morning he had admitted defeat and gone to bed. Dawn was still wide eyed, content to talk to Will for the rest of day if she could. Willow was dozing where sat and Xander had helped her upstairs to a guest bedroom before heading to his own room. Giles had disappeared around three in the morning. He was staying in the room adjacent to Xander's, and Xander had checked in just to make sure the Watcher hadn't offed himself while they weren't looking.

Giles had been sleeping, if fitfully, when Xander noiselessly cracked the door to his room and peaked in. His heart went out to Giles. The man's love for Buffy had caused a lot of heartache. Xander wasn't sure if the motives or the actions were more important. Since he couldn't figure that out, he was hard pressed to judge Giles very harshly.

Looking at the clock, he sighed. It was only twenty minutes since he had laid down. He had been so tired and now that he had the opportunity to sleep, his mind wouldn't be quiet. He wondered if anyone was sleeping.

Dawn wasn't. She was staring into the bright blue eyes of a man who had captured her imagination for over four hours now. She had always been fond of him, but now she realized that she was perhaps a little more than fond. He was sweet, funny, he spoke beautifully, and his heart was larger than it had any right to be.

The men, boys, she corrected herself, at college were nice. Some even knew of the existence of demons and vampires and the like. None of them knew her sister was the slayer, and none of them would have believed her if they had known. She had been finding it difficult to connect seriously to any of them. Dawn had a couple of boyfriends since starting college, and had rid her self of her virginity not long after her first semester started, but she couldn't commit to any of them.

Normally, a guy would come on to her, she would flirt back and they ended up dating a few days later. She didn't sleep with many of them, but she didn't believe in waiting to find 'the one' either. She wanted to experience everything she could as much as she could as soon as possible. She never knew when the world was going to end.

She mentally checked herself. This was Will, Angel's best friends and her sister's ex-boyfriend. He had baby sat her. The man in front of her was Spike, she chided herself, the funny and sarcastic peroxide user that had gotten so under everyone's skin. Yet, it wasn't that man. He was still funny, and she sensed he could get under their skin still if he wanted to, but the difference between this man and Spike was that this man didn't want to. He didn't want to drive everyone nuts. He was more focused with keeping peace and avoiding a nuclear fallout called Buffy and Angel.

She liked this man. She liked him a lot. He was cute. His eyes were the best shade of blue, he looked like he was ripped under those clothes, and his smile was disarming. And he had slept with her sister. That gave her pause, but not much. They seemed okay with their past relationship. And Will was okay with the fact that Buffy and Angel were banging boots again. If he was okay with that, Buffy should be okay if Dawn decided she wanted to bang boots with Will. At least that was what Dawn reasoned. When she was honest with herself, though, she knew that she could never reason out what her sister was going to do. Buffy was like a tornado, she changed trajectories quickly.

She smiled at Will, flipping her hair a little. She knew she was pretty. She had matured into a woman and had the curves to prove it. Her hair was a little shorter and a little lighter than it had been. She still had a cute quality to her face, but her cheek bones were more pronounced and with the right red lipstick she looked downright wanton. She wondered what qualities Will liked in his women. Their kids would have blue eyes, she thought. She froze at that. What part of her brain had conjured that, she wondered.

Will watched Dawn's face change. She had thought of something that shocked her. He hadn't said anything to warrant that reaction, but then again, she hadn't been paying attention to him for almost ten minutes. He tried to figure out what she was thinking, but those blue eyes gave nothing away. It was the twitches of her jaw that acted as her tell.

She had grown into a fine woman. She was beautiful, intelligent, and seemed a lot more fun loving than she had back in the day. Her hips had flared out. And she was suddenly looking at him as if he were a Chippendale dancer. Huge warning lights were going off in his head. A voice somewhere in his brain started screaming danger, Will Robinson, danger.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Angel moved very slowly getting out of the cab. It was almost six in the morning, the bar owner had kicked him out a little while ago, right after a cab came for him. Angel was barely able to give the driver an address. His head was spinning and he saw close to three houses, maybe two and half, as he reached the front door. His keys seemed to jump away from his fingers and he shook them to make them behave.

Once inside, he dropped his coat on the floor. The hall closet was two feet away, much farther than Angel thought he get in one piece. Instead, he carefully walked towards the stairwell, vaguely aware he was walking in a zigzag pattern at times. His feet seemed to go one way while the rest of him went another, but he got up the steps. He stumbled down the hallway and fell through the doorway to his room. He almost got his shoes off.

Staring at the floor that was a lot closer than it had been a moment previously, he wondered at how he got on the floor in the first place. It took a lot of effort to get to his knees and then to crawl into bed. He fell into a drunken sleep before he remembered that he only had one shoe off.

Buffy sat up, startled. She had dozed on the bed in a guest room, but had never gotten below the covers. She listened as someone, who she surmised must be Angel, stumbled down the hall and made a big production of getting inside his room. She was on her feet before her brain had really comprehended the situation.

She stared at him. He was drunk. More than drunk, she thought. Her exhausted mind couldn't find a word for his condition. She took off the one shoe still on his foot and shoved him onto his back. He didn't stir. Sighing, she undid his belt and pulled his pants and socks off. The shirt was more difficult, because his arms didn't exactly cooperate with her.

When she finally had him undressed, she fought with the covers for a while until they were situated on top of him. With painstaking silence, she climbed in next to him. Trying her best not to disturb him, she fell asleep with her hand gently resting over his.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Angel's brain wasn't working. He tried to make it work, but it just wouldn't respond. He rolled from the bed to the floor and crawled into the bathroom. It seemed three miles away, even though it was directly adjacent to his room. He used the sink to pull himself to a standing position and closed the door. Then he slapped the wall to try and tell the room to stop spinning. The wall paid him no heed.

He was on his knees quickly. His stomach was protesting what was in it. He vaguely remembered finishing the bottle of whiskey on his table, and he had an inkling that he tipped the waitress very, very well.

All that meant nothing when his stomach really started to scream. He hunched over the toilet, feeling like his insides were going to die. His head swimming, he managed to flush the toilet and lean his head back against the wall before he passed out.

When he came too again, he was already throwing up. That was odd, he thought. His brain contemplated that in between bouts of expelling all his major organs by way of his mouth. This was a lot less fun than the drinking had been, he realized. That was when he started to try and make deals with God. He promised he would never drink again. He promised to give more to charities, to be nicer to his friends. He must have been too drunk to pray properly though, because he just kept throwing up.

At some point he passed out again. And at some point he came to again. He was starting to notice a pattern. By the time he thought he might have gotten rid of everything he had put into his stomach in the past year, his body found a reserve that it had been storing for just such an occasion. That came up too.

Finally, he pulled himself from the floor and rinsed his mouth and face at the sink. Turning on the shower, he didn't bother with removing his boxers. He sat on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water rain down on him. Leaning his head against the cool tiles, his brain decided it was time to reboot yet again.

Buffy had been listening to Angel in the bathroom for almost two hours. She hadn't felt the need to check on him yet. He needed time to be sick in private. When she heard the shower, though, she got a little concerned. It probably wasn't a good idea for a guy who had crawled to the bathroom to be standing on slippery tiles.

She pulled herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Her heart stopped when she saw him on the floor, unconscious. The water was off and she was pulling him to her in an instant.

"Angel." She slapped him lightly and repeated his name. She knew she couldn't carry him but wasn't willing to leave him on the floor, either. She shook him a little more until he roused a little. He was able to stand using Buffy as a crutch. She got him into the chair in the corner of the bedroom, toweled him off and took off his boxers. They got back to the bed without much incident, but Angel passed out again before she got him entirely under the covers.

She was exhausted and near tears with frustration. Going downstairs to find help, she saw Will, bleary eyed, making coffee in the kitchen. He turned when he heard her come down and gave her a tired smile.

"Need help, yet?"

"How'd you know?" She took a seat at the kitchen table and accepted the toast he put in front of her.

"I heard the cab pull in. I put the munchkin to bed a little while ago. I didn't really sleep much but I probably got more than you."

"He's been sick for hours. I dragged him out of the shower a little while ago."

Nodding, Will took a seat across from her and picked at a bowl of cheerios. "I'll go up with you once the coffee's done. You need some."

"Since when did you get so motherly?"

He laughed. Gunn had asked him the same question what seemed like a long time ago. "I spent a lot of time with Angel, crying in my beer while he told me it would all work out. I figure I owe him one. I owe him a lot, actually. He owes me too, but we don't keep track. We've both had some really awful nights. Better to have the awful mornings with someone to take care of you."

"I never thought you two would be friends. Then again, I didn't think you were alive."

He rose and poured them both coffees, pouring a flavored creamer he thought Buffy would like into hers. Once they felt a little more ready to tackle a drunken Angel, they headed upstairs. The rest of the house was already starting to rise. Will left the coffee on for them.

Angel was still in bed, though he had tossed around quite a bit. He was trying to untangle himself from the sheets, and Will caught him before he could totally fall out of bed.

"You had a really good time last night," Will observed as helped Angel up and into the bathroom. He wrapped a blanket around the shaking man's shoulders as he threw up for the hundredth time that morning.

Will turned to Buffy and explained, "Alcohol poisoning makes you shake. He's not cold, but I thought I'd give him a little dignity."

"I didn't think to put underwear on him."

"He won't care." He motioned for Buffy to leave and closed the door behind her. She didn't need to see Angel like this and he probably wouldn't want her to. Will flushed the toilet for him as Angel leaned back and took a shaky breath.

"Talk to me, champ."

"This sucks."

"You earned it, buddy. How much did you drink?"

"The bottle."

Will winced. That was a lot even for hybrids. They had an increased tolerance to alcohol, but an entire bottle would probably have put Will in the hospital. "Well, that's disturbing. Want to go to the hospital?"

Angel shook his head, which lead to another round over the toilet bowl. Will was wondering if he should take him anyway, get his stomach pumped, but thought better of it. He was responding to questions and his color wasn't that bad under the circumstances. He also thought Angel would probably kill him if he woke up in a hospital room for the second time in four days.

He made sure Angel wasn't going to die or go anywhere any time soon and went to talk to Buffy. She was lying on the bed, her back to the bathroom, looking at the sun through the bay windows. Will sat next to her and rubbed her back for a minute.

"This isn't easy, is it? Not the way you imagined it. Well, I doubt this was his fantasy either. He's been hurting for so long, I don't know if he knows how to do anything else. He can learn though."

She nodded a little, to numb to speak. Her life was a roller coaster, she thought. She had been so high this afternoon, and then so low all night. She wondered if she would ever get on an even keel. She wondered if an even keel existed for her life.

"Go get some sleep; I'll take care of Precious. Go on, you look like hell."

Sighing, she lifted herself off the bed and silently left the room. She really did look like she had seen better days. Will knew he didn't look like much of a prince at the moment, either, but he had a feeling that he could cope with Angel better at the current moment. Buffy needed a break from life, even if it only lasted long enough for her to get some sleep.

The fog Angel was stuck in was starting to clear. He realized he might have gone a little overboard. Taking a deep breath he got himself off the floor and walked unaided, all be it haltingly, into the bedroom. Will steadied him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I think I left my spleen in the bathroom."

"Most of your brain, too. What were you thinking?" Will took a seat next to Angel, who looked like a truck had hit him and then circled around and hit him again. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot and bleary and if had been any paler, he would have turned translucent.

"She hates me." Angel recognized the fact that he was still drunk. He'd be drunk for most of the day. Even super beings had to give their bodies' time to process booze.

"Sure she does. So do I. In fact, the there's this online club called 'we hate Angel.' We all belong to it and have bimonthly meetings where we talk about the stuff you do that pisses us off. Like the fact that you think everyone hates you, you freak. How many complexes can one guy have?" The last was rhetorical, but Angel answered it anyway.

"A lot. I'm such a looser." He put his head in his hands, feeling a kind of defeat only a drunk can feel.

Putting his hand on Angel's shoulders, he smiled a little. Captain Forehead was still in the bag. "You want to go downstairs, chug Pepto-Bismol and take half a dozen ibuprofens? It'll make you feel better."

He shook his head. He reeked of booze and cigarettes and de wasn't sure he could walk straight. Angel didn't want anyone to see him way. Will didn't count, he rationalized, Will had seen him so drunk he couldn't speak. He had seen Will in some compromising positions as well. There wasn't much to hide from his younger companion.

"Yes, you're going downstairs. Put these on." Handing him clothes, he turned his back to give the other man a little privacy.

"I hate you." Angel dressed, though he thought his head was going to explode. He wanted to clime back into a bottle, but that would require Will leaving him alone and that wasn't going to happen. He accepted his fate; his head hurt too much to think of an escape plan.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

They made their way downstairs. Will spoke quietly to him about how late they all had stayed up, how worried everyone had been. Angel didn't look like he believed that, but he probably didn't want to believe it. Loneliness and the thought that everyone in his life was malevolent were strangely comforting to him.

He sat in the kitchen, contemplating the coke Will put in front of him. His stomach seized. A few minutes later, pills and Pepto-Bismol appeared in front of him. He took the pills without a word and chugged a quarter of the bottle of the pink chalk. Putting his head in his hands, he stared at the subtle stripe pattern of the table cloth. It made him dizzy.

It took him a while to realize he wasn't alone. Looking up, he saw Xander and Giles sitting there as well. Will smiled at him in a not unkind way, but there was more than a hint of mischief in the gesture.

"You look good." Xander looked amused, but that could have also been the permanent way his face was, Angel thought. He chose not to respond.

"Angel…I know this isn't the best time, but…pull it together, man. You have to snap out of this stupor your in. Buffy is not angry with you."

Angel thought of lunging across the table at Giles, but wondered if that would be the last straw for his body. It could be worth it though, he reasoned. Will interrupted his thoughts before he could decide if pummeling Giles would be worth certain death.

"She's not mad at you. What happened last night?"

He swallowed, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't get sick again. "I saw her face. She read those letters. She…the things I said, she must have been mad. She looked mad."

Will slapped his own forehead and nearly fell out of his chair. This was what he was missing work for? The man needed electro shock therapy. "You are such a complete idiot. I say that in the best way. But, man, you're stupid. You're the dumbest smart person I know. She felt bad that you were so upset in those stupid letters. She wasn't mad, she was guilty."

No, his brain said, she's mad and Will's an idiot. "She can't feel guilty. She didn't do anything wrong."

"And you did? You thought she was ignoring you. Angel, you weren't in the wrong." Xander was getting mad at everyone, now. Giles was moping, Angel was stuck on the idea that he was the most unpopular person in this dimension, and Buffy had turned catatonic again instead of dealing. Why couldn't his friends be sane?

Angel considered this information for a moment and decided the best thing to do right now was go upstairs, spend time bonding with the toilet bowl and go back to sleep. He rose without a word and left to execute his well thought out plan for his day.

Will leaned back on two legs of the chair, his arms out to the side. He balanced for a few minutes until Giles slammed his fist on the table. That almost sent him crashing to the floor but Xander grabbed the back of the chair and pushed him forward.

"Bloody hell! Isn't anyone going to save those two from themselves! They're bloody perfect for each other, those two. I don't know why I didn't see it before. I'm a damned old fool." They were both acting ridiculously, Giles thought. His anger was mostly directed at himself, though.

"You're not that old." Xander rose and filled their coffee cups. He started to make another pot for the gaggle of women that would undoubtedly show up soon. "Look…we have to lock them together in a room and wait a few days. We'll slip water and crumbs of bread through a sot in the door and make them resolve this. It's the only way."

Will was a little disturbed by the seriousness of Xander's expression as he said this. He hoped the younger man was kidding but he kind of doubted it. "As much as I agree with the sentiment, Xan, I think we should not do that. I think Angel should sleep it off, and be watched, so he doesn't pull the same trick tonight. Giles, you've got to talk to Buffy. Try to make amends somehow."

"I'm ready to crawl over broken glass at this point, if need be."

"That's a good start, I think."

Xander interjected, "Uhh, guys…what are we going to do after that? Angel and Buffy will be fine. She killed him and they still love each other. They'll get over this. But, after that, I mean, she's going to stay in LA. Giles and Willow are going back to Europe, right? Dawn has to go back to school. I have…no where to go. How are things going to change?"

"I do have to go back to the Council. I dread finding out what they've done in my absence. I imagine Buffy will stay here, yes. What you do is up to you. Dawn only has a semester to go, and I think she'll come here when she's done, if Buffy's here. What has you concerned?"

"I just don't want…we went through a lot of trouble with those Buffy doubles. For good reason. If she stays here, she could be in danger. And Angel isn't going to move around with her."

It was Will's turn to interject. "No one will have the guts to come after the girlfriend of the President of Wolfram and Hart. That would mean immediate death and probable genocide of whatever demon race the assassin belonged to. She's safer with us than she was with you lot."

Nodding, Giles had to agree. If Angel and Buffy became serious, which he knew they would, she would have the protection of Wolfram and Hart, a massively powerful entity. Wolfram and Hart still controlled most of the dimensional travel and demon migration through many of the dimensions surrounding Earths'. The company had ties to every major demon faction on the planet. It had not been uncommon for these factions to rebel a few years ago, but they had either been eliminated or satiated. Most everyone who profited from Wolfram and Hart was fiercely loyal to the company.

He stopped his train of thought. This kind of thinking had gotten him into trouble in the first place. Buffy could take care of herself. She was more than capable, and if she wanted to stay in LA, no one was going to argue for or against it. It was solely her decision. He decided with finality that it was time to talk to her.

He rose and with a curt nod to the other two men he made his way upstairs. Dawn and Willow were just coming down the stairs, and he nodded to them in greeting.

Dawn was feeling chipper. Despite her sister's pain and her worry for Angel, she was excited at her prospects with Will. She had kissed his cheek on her way to bed that morning, and he hadn't really reacted with enthusiasm, but he didn't reject her either. She was on the hunt, now. Buffy has vampires, she thought, and I have men.

Willow was worried over Buffy. Se had every confidence Buffy would be okay, but she hated seeing her in such pain. Willow was sure Giles was on his way to talk to her now. Willow immediately inquired after Angel when she and Dawn reached the kitchen.

Will was balancing on the back two legs of his chair again. Xander was telling Willow that Angel was fine. Drunk, but fine. Dawn was staring at Will in the way that made him nervous again.

Will was bored. He wasn't at the office, and he hadn't gone running. He felt like his energy was going to boil over soon. He had called Dorita's cell and told her to bring groceries, but other than that she could have the day off.

Standing, he left the three Scooby members in the kitchen and made his way to East wing of the house, which was where the gym was. He knew he should go into the office, but he couldn't leave Angel alone with this motley crew. Shedding his shirt, shoes and socks, he went to work on a punching bag in the corner of the room. It had been over a week since he and Angel had sparred. Angel was the only person who could give him a run for his money. Gunn and Wes ended up begging for mercy. In dignified ways, of course.

The stress of the past few weeks came pouring out of him. What started as simple one twos turned into combinations, which escalated into kick combos. Now he was ducking and dodging invisible opponents, all the while kicking and swinging. He was going to make that punching bag say 'uncle' if it was the last thing he did.

Dawn watched as a sheen of sweat formed on his body. She had been right, he was ripped. Not in a scary steroidal way, but he was certainly in peak condition. She watched as he changed attacks and flipped backwards. He somersaulted through the air and landed on his feet. He hadn't been on the ground two seconds when he was back in formation. His legs kicked out to the side as his body lifted in the air, twisting a little in mid air so he would come down in a crouch.

She watched as he fought invisible opponents. He was good, she thought. He had definitely been practicing. Slipping off her own shoes and socks, she realized she wasn't in the proper attire for sparring. Throwing to the caution to the wind, she snuck around the room until she was to his left, just out of his line of sight. Jumping high, she released a kick in mid air that missed his head by inches. She had only wanted to get his attention.

He stopped, breathing hard, and looked at his attacker. She was wrapping her long hair into a high ponytail, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"What do you want, little bit?"

"I'm not so little any more." She put her hands into a fighting position and moved her legs shoulder width apart, leading slightly with her left and bending both knees. She knew her posture was impeccable. She hadn't only studied books in England. The Watcher's training school had not been so far away from her campus.

He raised his eyebrows at her stance. She might just have a good technique, he thought, but technique was nothing compared to experience. He lashed out her head, making sure he wouldn't connect hard. She caught his wrist and made a slicing motion to the inside of his elbow with the side of her hand. A satisfied smile came to her lips as he flinched. She shoved hard against his wrist, putting some distance in between them.

He was impressed. The girl had style. He jumped, flipping over her head and landing behind her before she could turn. Grabbing her shoulders from behind, he swept his legs under feet. He controlled her fall by her shoulders, but he wasn't counting on her flipping her legs back as she hit the mat. Her feet hit him squarely on the top of his head with her feet and he felt a distinctly painful crunching of his neck and shoulder muscles.

He released her, too surprised to react for a moment. This gave her the opportunity to spin into a crouching position and lash her leg out, catching him in the side of the face. Standing, she bounced on the balls of her feet, feeling a rush go through her. She had connected well three times in a row and he looked very impressed.

"Not so little any more," he repeated as he faked a right. She immediately moved to block and he threw a left into her side. He was controlling himself. A shot like that with his full strength would leave her kidney permanently damaged.

She still felt the hit though, and winced. Her hand reached out and grabbed his right arm. Turning her body so that her hip was in his pelvic bone, she threw him with all her might. A surprised sound escaped his lips as he went flying towards the wall. It took all of his might to twist himself so his feet hit the wall instead of his whole body. In an instant, his body bounced off the surface like a spring.

The heel of his hand caught her across the edge of her jaw before she could completely dodge him. She rolled, coming up to too slow to dodge the light head but that came her way. It stung, but she knew he had barely tapped her compared to what he could do. Before he attacked again, she countered with lightning quick combination to his abdomen. She knew her strengths, though, and immediately positioned herself to use her legs again.

When she faked another combination, his arms lashed out to block her fists while she brought her right leg into his side. She jumped back a little, and her right leg, which was still airborne, coiled back and lashed out again, this time hitting him dead center in his solar plexus. The air rushed from his body and she spun hard, releasing all the power she had to hit him on the side of his head with her foot.

She bounced on her feet again as he lost balance and went to the mat. Looking at her, he started laughing. He was out of breath and pretty sure his head was going to be purple in the morning, but the look on her face was hilarious. She was loving this.

He gave her a sweet smile that she had seen before. She knew it always preceded something awful. He pushed off the ground with his legs, both his hands hitting her, palm forward, in her shoulders. She tried to counter, put she was already off balance. He used the opportunity to turn around and elbow her in the stomach, doubling her over. He quickly moved forward again and kicked her feet out from under her.

She fell hard. He looked at her crumpled form on the ground and panicked. Rushing to her side, he knelt and went to lift her but was caught in the face with her fist instead. Falling back, she hit him again, not holding back. Before he could catch her, she was straddling him, her elbows digging into the inside of his elbows. His arms were pinned and he was starting to loose circulation in his fingers.

"Got you." She had a sweet smile and her face was inches from his.

"You would have been unconscious a dozen times if I really hit you."

"Your fault for holding back."

A roguish smile came to his lips. "Not a mistake I'll make again."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Giles knocked on the door of Buffy's room. Getting no response, he called her name softly. Opening the door to the room, he saw her lying on the bed, facing the door. Her eyes were open and she seemed to be staring into space. He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on her shoulders.

It took him a moment to find his voice, but he decided to lay everything out for her. He was willing to risk being heartbroken to have her forgive him. "I love you, Buffy. More than I can ever convey. I am truly sorry for what I did. I was acting in your best interests, or so I thought. I should have never interfered."

She looked at him then. She sat up and gently touched the bruise on the side of his face where she hit him. She was sure there were other bruises she couldn't see. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"I deserved it. I deserve a lot more than that. The only comfort I have is in knowing that you two will be fine despite my meddling. Angel needs healing, many kinds of healing, but he'll be alright."

"I wish I knew that. I mean, last night was a disaster. And I thought everything was going so well yesterday. He freaked out so easily and I had no chance to explain." Her hands were flying through the air as she spoke, punctuating her words with emphasis.

"He's sensitive to your criticism right now. Even imagined criticism. Go to him. Assuage his fears and forgive his stupidity. He hurts because of how much he loves you. I can relate to that, actually." He smiled at that. Perhaps he and Angel were not so different after all.

"I love you too, Giles." She wrapped her arms around him. He was stupid and arrogant and meddlesome. And he was the closest thing she had to a dad. She did love him; she didn't think she could ever not love him. It would take a while to trust him, but she was sure they would mend things again.

Pulling away, she looked at him and took a deep breath. "Christmas is in four days. I want a Christmas. A real one. I haven't been with you guys in so long, and we're all together this year. I don't want to waste that."

He nodded slowly. He doubted he was ever very good at celebrating Christmas. "We'll have to go get a tree. A big one. And I should go shopping. I am…poorly prepared."

"You know I still think you're an idiot, right? And you had no right to do that, and I'm still mad. Really mad. You can't bribe me with Christmas trees."

"I realize. I would be frightened for your sanity if you weren't still angry. I can't make it up to you, but I can assure you nothing of the sort will happen again."

"Good." She jumped up from the bed and took a few calming breaths. "I have to go see Angel and then you and I are going to get a Christmas tree. Ask Dawn if she wants to come."

He smiled as they separated. She was going to forgive him. Turning the corner in search of Dawn, he hoped Angel was sober enough to apologize.

Angel was still drunk. Well, he conceded, maybe buzzed. The alcohol was mostly out of his system and he felt better than he had a few hours ago, but he figured it wouldn't be until morning that he felt up to par again. When he heard the knock at his door, he knew who it was. Her smell was unmistakable. Not that he would tell her that.

She came in at his beckon and sat next to him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to convince himself to get up and get in the shower.

"You smell like a bar."

"I wonder why."

She stood again and made her way towards the door. "I'll talk to you when you're not being an ass."

He jumped up after her, which he immediately regretted and grabbed her arm. His head swam with the sudden movement. "Buffy, wait. I'm sorry. Really. Sit, please."

She contemplated him for a moment. He looked pitiful. She couldn't turn her back on him when he looked that bad. Sitting back down she waited for him to continue.

"Everyone tells me I overreacted a little."

She exploded. "A little!" Standing, she paced the room, her arms waving widely as she spoke. "You were drunker than I have ever seen anybody! You were a mess. You ran out of here, turned your phone off. No one could find you! I was so worried. And I wasn't mad at you until you stumbled in here drunk and surly!"

He didn't think he had been surly, but he wasn't going to press that point. "You're not mad at me? Everything I said, Buffy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. Well, I did, but I wouldn't have meant it if I had known the real reason…" He couldn't speak any more. Her hand was over his mouth. She stared into his eyes and shook her head a little.

"Stop talking. You either have nothing to say or you ramble. Do have a normal speed? I love you. I'm not mad. I would have been harsher than you were if I had been in your shoes. Let's get over that and move on because I don't think I take any more agitation." She took her hand from his mouth and sat down next to him again.

"I love you too. I never stopped loving you. And…I'm sorry about last night. I just…couldn't deal."

"Well, now we've dealt. Let's go get a Christmas tree." She stood and looked at him expectantly.

He knew she was purposefully skimming over her feelings, but he understood her need to get over all the bad things and move onto the good things. "How about I shower and you go get a tree?" He looked hopeful; he really didn't want to deal with going out at the moment.

"Be here and be sober when I get back. I'm serious, mister, you're on Buffy probation." She turned on her heel and walked out before he could respond. Then he smiled ruefully. She was an interesting woman, his Buffy.

He got into the shower and couldn't stop smiling. She loved him. With all his faults, she loved him. That was all he really needed to live, he thought. Buffy and her love. Everything else could fade away.


	29. Chapter 29

Conclusion

Ten people stood underneath a huge Christmas tree. The top bent over a little, so the star on top was crooked. Fred was drinking sparkling cider, but the majority of the group had champagne in their hands. Dinner had been a peaceful, enjoyable event. There had been a lot of laughter.

Buffy was sitting on the couch, leaning against Angel, his arm around her shoulders. Angel was watching Will, who kept sneaking glances at Dawn and her barely there little black dress. She was giving him wicked grins now and again. He mentally cringed. This will be fun, he thought. Just the way to start the New Year.

Giles was going back to England in a few days. It hadn't taken much to convince him to stay for Christmas. Willow was leaving the same day, citing her responsibilities in France. She was thrilled for Angel and Buffy though. Willow was excited about the future for the first time in a long time. The future looked bright for once.

Xander was toying with the idea of staying in LA. He liked it here. Being in the city was a big change, but he found, with surprise, that it was a good change. He liked the excitement of the city, the possibilities. And Africa held no pull for him anymore. He didn't want to hide there any longer. The past few days had led to an interesting friendship with Fred, and he had developed a fondness for Angel that surprised him. these were good people, he decided.

Fred's pregnancy was progressing smoothly. Wesley stroked the small bump of a belly she was sporting, praying to whoever would listen to take care of his wife and unborn child. He had never wanted to be a father, but since Fred had expressed interest in children he had dove into parenthood without reservations. He would do anything to make her happy. And he was surprised to find that the thought of being a father made him happy as well. He loved his child already.

He hadn't given up on finding the Connor file, but he had decided to wait until after the holiday. Wesley was nothing if not patient.

Gunn sighed contentedly. His adopted family was happy. Buffy wasn't so bad, he thought. He could get used to her. And he was excited about being an uncle. They hadn't made the announcement yet, but Gunn understood that. They wanted to be sure this one would take before they said anything. He was excited to see what the coming year would bring.

Angel could not find fault with his life. The woman he loved was at his side. His friends were happy. Fred's pregnancy was going to go smoothly. There was a different smell to her this time. The heart beat of the baby inside her was getting stronger by the day. Her pheromones were different in ways he couldn't describe and he was sure this baby would be born healthy; he had known the other two wouldn't make it before Fred had.

Xander had quietly pulled him aside, told Angel he was thinking about staying in LA. Angel had been quick to offer him all the help he needed in getting settled. Xander hadn't asked yet, but Angel had a feeling he would soon be putting an application into Wolfram and Hart. He didn't think Xander would like flipping burgers. Besides that, Angel didn't think the man should squander his talents.

He was coming to a point in his life where he could forgive Giles. Wes had said that if placed in the older man's shoes, he might have done the some thing. Angel had almost dropped him to the floor at that, but had understood the point. It was time to get over it, he realized. It was time to move on with his life.

Angel was back. He was feeling stronger, quicker, than he had in a long time. He was ready to take the demons on again with the full force of his company. He was ready to focus on expanded Wolfram and Hart into other dimensions. He had plans to expand his holdings of businesses around LA. He was going to start slowly, but he was ready to start now.

This was the first day of his new life. His complete and happy new life. And, he thought, the world better get ready for me. I'm going to turn it upside down


End file.
